He was staring ... and I was enjoying the confidence I was feeling."More?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.He nodded.I unbuttoned my pants, turned to face him, and unzipped my zipper. His hands moved again.I whispered, "you can touch it."He seemed to have been waiting for that. His hands moved to his khakis, his fingers finding the sides of his penis. He made and adjustment, and I could clearly see the length (and width) of his cock. He squeezed it, and started rubbing a bit."Better?" I asked.He managed to say yes."You like my panties?" I asked him again.He said yes - in the same, low tone."My cotton panties?" I said, stressing the word "panties."He nodded ... barely."My pink cotton panties?" I emphasized each word, still moving my hips for him.Another nod. His hand was still rubbing. I undid my pants all the way, and lowered them a bit, down low, over my hips. I stepped closer to him."You can take it out," I said in a low voice.His expression barely changed, but I thought I could see a. Even Mike was not immune. The desk in their bedroom, the one where the home computer sat, was rescued drawerless from a trash pile on Point Drive. With a coat of paint, and some drawers made from wooden boxes found in another trash pile, it had served Mike for several years. It was earmarked to go into the place in the basement he had reserved for his den/office at the new house.The only problem was that it was too nice a day to want to spend it screwing around in the attic. He and Kirsten had already shot one extra cup of coffee, sitting around the kitchen table and putting off the reality, and Mike was giving some thought to making another cup of instant; it wasn't worth making a whole pot of coffee for himself if Kirsten could only drink decaf out of packages."I can't believe how well the kids are taking it," Kirsten said."Well, I don't think it means a lot to Henry, one way or the other," Mike said. "Not having to share his room with his sister was the big news for him. Tiffany,.
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