"I'll be sixteen in a month." "Well I can't come down until I find the tights that mom washed." Sandra said from between piles. "You mean those?" ...ack pointed to a pair of black tights hanging over her lamp shade. "Women, they always take forever getting ready." Soon Sandra was downstairs in her black tights, a black turtle neck, white skirt and block heel shoes. She sat down with her legs crossed and had a grapefruit for breakfast. She then started to walk to the mall because Apollo. By Wednesday evening I was a walking heap of sexual frustration, and a few pinches to my clit were all that was needed to get me teetering on the brink of release. Tears of frustration trickled down my cheeks while I ate dinner under the watchful and excited eyes of my tormentors. They had only grinned like lunatics every time I had begged to be allowed to come. I had even gotten on my knees and plastered sweet kisses all over my landlady’s feet in a moment of absolute despair. I’m not sure how. More

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