"I could use some cream," he said as he extended an empty cup into my chest. The manner in which he did it was insulting as if he expected compliance ...ithout the courtesy of asking me. I could feel my face getting cherry red - half in anger, half with embarrassment, but rather than protest, I closed the door and padded into the kitchen with hopes of getting rid of him as soon as I could. I was in the midst of pouring his cup of cream when I heard the door slide open. Fuck! Once inside, he'd no. On opening the lid open he looked down and immediately his face broke into a large grin. With a sense of embarrassment I knew he was gazing at my wife's underwear, garments only she and I were meant to see. Anne always wears feminine delicate under things but in preparation for our holiday we had visited an Victoria's Secret shop and spent rather a lot on some far more risqué items. The first pair of panties he merely held up and admired, but with the second pair, he took some time fingering. More

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