Her legs were spread, her nightgown pulled up to her waist. Her husband, the Reverend Dwight Garrison's unsightly bulging flab pressed into her abdome..., thrusting madly into his wife's vagina. What the Reverend didn't see was his wife's eyes. If he had bothered to look at her in the darkness, he would have seen tears gathering there --- the tears of unfulfillment. As usual, he was out of touch with her needs, her desires. Though he was an esteemed member of the community, his wife usually came. It was all very pleasant and civilised, even, dare I say, normal.After some thirty minutes, Lisa got up and took my hand and led me through to my bedroom. A host of shopping bags and packages festooned the bed."They're all yours, little sister," Lisa said proudly.I stood for a few moments hardly daring to think of the contents, during all the years of dressing in private, I had never had female clothes to call my own, never mind having them bought for me as a gift. It was like a wonderful. More

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