Was she really going to not let me finish what I started?She added, "Do you like the thigh highs? They're yours. Your son has a stocking fetish becaus... of you."Before I could say anything, although I'm not sure what I would have said, she walked away leaving me alone on my knees with pussy juice on my face.I weakly got off my knees and moved back to the counter.I stood there for a moment to recover from the surreal excitement before resuming making dinner with my head spinning in a million. She hadn’t heard him, still walking with that easy gaited stride, her legs bare in the cool air, tennis shoes on her feet. Her dark cape of hair danced around her, the dim light of the widely spaced street lights catching and drawing out touches of gold that caught his eyes. Her ass was a sweet offering, rounded, taut, her buttocks moving seductively under that short skirt. One step behind her, his hand reached out, slapping over her mouth, his other arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her. More

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