The routine continued for several weeks and I could tell she really enjoyed it. One week she came home and slipped into her bedroom. When she came out...I noticed her hose was black, not the normal tan she had on when she entered the house. She routinely said she would like a foot massage. As I rubbed her feet she told me her legs were also sore. My hands slowly slid up her legs with long rubbing strokes. She slowly pulled up her skirt to reveal her stockings were thigh high and appeared to be. I instinctively surveyed thedistance separating me from the black mesh, bikini briefs, sitting onthe bed. I concluded they were just beyond reach. Even before I couldthrow an arm across my chest, in a vain effort to camouflage the breastforms filling the underwired cups of my corset, she started in at me."Well, well, well! Having a little girl's day, are we? Oh, Sweetie, yourunderwear is cute, but that voice of yours just won't do at all."Upon corralling a handful of skittish thoughts, I. More

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