I followed her into the lounge room. “This is Cindi” she said “my slutty bitch”. I was stunned. “Cindi” was in fact her husband. He was we...ring a corset, crotchless pantyhose and high heels. He had on a long blonde wig and full make-up. His cock and ball were in this cage thing with a padlock and I could see, when he turned around, a butt plug. Quite a sight.“Sit over there while Bill (my fake name) and I get acquainted” she said and directed me to the couch. As soon as we sat down she was. They always gatheredin Mom's drawing room, the one next to her library, where they sat andexchanged pleasantries and engaged in small talk or so it had seemed tous as children.Actually, as children, our interactions with these gatherings had beenstrictly limited. When not at school we had been paraded, freshlyscrubbed and neatly dressed, before the gathered ladies for them toadmire. As we grew older, we assisted by helping to serve tea, smallsandwiches and tiny cakes to the assembled group. More

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