"See, if you were gay, you'd probably dress up as a motorcycle leatherguy or something. Not as a southern belle. I mean really," she sighed,"it make... no sense." Well," I said, "I just don't want to have to explain it to people."She reached over and patted my thigh through my skirt. "You don't haveto explain a thing if you don't want to, sweetie," she said."I know," I said. Suddenly I felt her little fingers sneak under myskirt. Lisa's French manicure gently raked along my. Instead it just drew the eye to her swollen labia, which it split without hiding. I was sure that I could see a glistening on her inner thighs portraying that she was excited. This if anything shocked me more than the terrible fact that she had been led like an animal by a leash, or I suppose it would be more accurate to call them reins, by a fully dressed man. Worst though and maybe the reason that I felt so embarrassed was that I could feel that my own sex in my panties was decidedly puffy.. More

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