Shenever did figure out the internet beyond CNN. Good thing.Master Dave doesn't join us. Just me and Bambi, her beautiful, menaked, at the stage set with the bar. She pours me a tequila and onefor herself. I don't know what to do.I say, "Thank you, Mistress."She smiles. "Good slut. Drink. Cheers."She pours another for me. I need it."Mistress," I ask, for the roles have changed, I sense this. This isnot the Bambi I fucked in the lake, but Mistress in business now, "whyme?"Her eyes glint. "I liked you, and Dave said you were star material.Short, fem, needy, with a great body of muscle, and according to hisresearch, wouldn't be missed."She pauses, thinking. "You don't understand... slut. On the internet,you talked and talked about Cheryl and how she couldn't understand yourkinks. No one could, it seemed, but my husband. I don't."I say nothing as she gives me another shot. It's not so much shame thatI feel, for loving and losing Cheryl, but my privacy was invaded. Itold Master Dave, not. She replaced the drawer, and looked into the mirror attempting to "fix" her lustrous golden hair, which already looked perfect. She started to leave, then stopped. She reached under the pleated skirt and swiftly removed her panties, tossing them on the bed. Then she spun around in front of a full-length mirror in a corner of her room, watching the skirt rise and show off her luscious ass, and trimmed blonde bush. She ran from the room, apparently afraid she'd change her mind. Just a few minutes passed when I heard the car start. I entered Kelly's room the same way as before. I removed the tape from its hiding place and put it near the window, where I could grab it on my exit from the premises. I grabbed Kelly's shimmering white panties and held them to my greedy nostrils. They were slightly damp, and the aroma was intoxicating. That was my first experience with the sweet perfume of an aroused woman. That was also when I realized that my email did more than get me a video of Kelly's.
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