But Cindy did worry about how her daughter, who was staying next door as well, might react to knowing that her own mother had been fucking the black g...y next door. She might think of me, she worried, as a slut, and a whore. She didn't want to hurt her daughter. As mother and daughter, they had always been close. They were amazingly open and honest with each other; something many mothers and daughters failed to be. Cindy had been careful so far (or so she had hoped) to be very 'discrete' about. " "I..I...I'm really not sure," Jane stammered. "It was sitting on my chair and I guess in my hurry to come here, I forgot to take it off." The dean rubbed his chin and said, "Yes, I guess I could understand that." His facial expression became to change a bit. His concerned smile began to look more like a leer. "Well Jane, there is probably only one way to see whether the d**g has affected your ability to resist other's wishes." "What do you mean?," asked Jane. "Well, why don't you come over. More

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