I used to curse myself for having to be in class the latest on a Friday but today it worked to my advantage. I tried to take my time to walk back to my apartment without looking like I was in a rush. A classmate stopped me to have a conversation as I was about to walk into the building and I swear he probably thought there was something wrong with me. He cut the conversation short and allowed me to go on my way. Once in the apartment building, no one really bothered to interrupt my half-jog to the apartment. Opening the door to hear nothing inside was so rewarding. I locked the door, just to be safe, and headed to my bedroom. That door was quickly locked as well. I knew no one was home, but the paranoia hadn't worn off. As soon as my bag hit the door I was grasping for a bag I kept far under my bed. The toys I had desperately wanted to play with were waiting for me. My pussy was quickly reminding me that it had been a long time since I last toyed with it. The wetness was causing the. Proper clothing was what you were wearing. Manners consisted of “thanks,” “okay” and “I guess.” When Mr. Glist was out of town on business, Mrs. Glist and Lindsey often spent Saturday morning lounging in their bathrobes and had left-over pizza for breakfast (one of the rules in my house was that each food had one—and only one—proper meal; consumption of a dinner food for breakfast was forbidden).Those occasional Mr. Glist-free Saturdays were my favorites. Lindsey and I would stay up late on Friday night watching scary movies and sleep in as long was we wanted. Sometimes Mrs. Glist had pancakes for us, sometimes we ate cold pizza, sometimes she ordered Chinese food at 11 am and we had hot-and-sour soup and drank cocoa. It was never regimented and never routine.However, the casual attire meant that on several occasions after that first, I would encounter Mrs. Glist naked, or in a loosely-tied robe while Lindsey was in the shower or otherwise occupied. And I always stared. And stared..
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