She pushed me away. Laughed. Sat up, grabbed a pillow, then damned if she didn't just wipe her dripping pussy on it. My favorite Smurf pillowcase! Dam...it, that wasn't right. My bedchamber had just been desecrated. I followed her into the living room, and there she was, stark nekkid, cozily sprawled in my beanbag chair watching Geraldo, with the sound turned up to 140 decibels. She'd pillaged the fridge of my best Chianti and was drinking it straight from the bottle. She lit up one of her cheap. She grabbed her nail polish and touched up my nails, perfecting the dark blue color upon them. She went tot her jewelry box and pulled out a couple toe rings, and slid them on my toes. She then slid the stockings up my smooth legs and straitened the seam running up the back. She then pulled a think silver anklet about the size of a mans watch band out and clasped it on my right ankle. She pulled me to her feet and fasted the garter belt, attaching the 8 straps to my perfect stockings. Next she. More

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