I bring them up to my face and inhale your scent. Should I call it a scent? Or an aroma? Or is it a bouquet? It is intoxicating whatever I call it, and then I run my tongue along the dampness and taste you for the first time. Second-hand taste, but satisfying, just like standing next to a smoker when you desperately need a puff on a cigarette, but don't have one yourself. I ask you to turn around. You ask why. I tell you that I am getting your surprise ready. You turn around. I unzip my pants and pull my cock out through the fly, and I stroke myself to orgasm and cum into your panties. You couldn't help yourself and you turned around mid-way through my self-pleasure and watched me as I filled your panties with my cum. I hand them to you. Your wet panties now filled with my cum. "Damn you are naughty," you say to me. "But I like it," you add. "What do I do with my panties now?" you ask. I hear people come into the office outside my locked door. "Anything you want to do with them," I. "That isn't all there is to it, is it?"Mike considered lying, but it appeared that he was already caught. "I guess not." Go." She pushed the door closed, forcing him through it. "I'll be right out."Mike stood outside the door, sheepish, trying to figure out how to rescue the situation. Nothing came to him.Inside the bathroom, Lois stood there, trying to decide whether to re- do her makeup and walk out or wash her face and walk out. Things had been going well -- dammit, why did he have to go there? How much proving herself was she going to have to do? Would anything be good enough?She decided on clean; she scrubbed her face and got all of her eye makeup off, got a grip on her emotions, and opened the door. "There! Satisfied? Want to feel my shave? Well, surprise, surprise! I DON'T shave! I grow a long, grey beard and spend my evenings plucking it out while I watch old 'Will & Grace' reruns, okay?" She turned for the door.Mike found himself grabbing her wrist again. "It's not like.
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