1. Trust


    Date: 7/17/2015, Categories: BDSM, Shemales, Author: klammer, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    that her tension was rising in the dining room, when I smelled the first whiff of burning rolls. Then... a match in the fat, open the oven door... damn. Hold a match under the smoke alarm, and *then* push the bowl off the table. And let out a squeal, as of dismay. The hardest part was getting the silly grin off my face, and manufacturing a look of frightened horror when she came dashing through the kitchen door. &#034I b-burned the d-dinner,&#034 stuttering from the effort to choke giggles, and then exaggerating it, as if I were very embarrassed. I clutched the sides of my skirt in both hands and raised them to my mouth, trying for the image of the little girl caught being naughty, and also aware that she could see the triangle of my Valentine's day panties perfectly clearly. The skirt proved useful, since it hid the smile that I couldn't keep back, and I managed to make the giggles sound more or less like frightened sobs. I kept my eyes wide, though. Of course, the mascara helped. She finally broke her paralysis, and rushed to the stove to put out the fire. Good thing, I was getting a little worried. &#034You...&#034 she said, and couldn't continue. She twisted, wildly, and fixed the smoke alarm. &#034You...&#034 she tried again. She looked at the floor, where the shattered bowl lay -- nothing else, though, no beans or salad, and I hadn't wasted chicken to burn, either -- and then she grabbed a potholder, dumped the rolls in the sink, slammed the oven door shut, turned it ...
    off, and turned to face me. &#034You... little imp!&#034 she cried, and dissolved into laughter. I waited, manfully suppressing the wellspring of laughter that was rising in me, until she began to recover, wiping her eyes, and then I dropped my skirt, gave her my best tragic look, and asked wistfully, &#034Do you suppose we could go out?&#034 Paused, carefully, and added, &#034For pizza?&#034 She rushed across the floor to envelop me in a hug, and this time we both went into a fit of laughter, that turned into a f it of giggles, and almost couldn't be stopped. We kept starting over every time we looked at one another. Finally, she blew out a breath, and slipped a hand under my skirt. &#034Oh, god, Lee! Do we have to have the pizza *first?&#034* &#034Ooh!&#034 I squealed in mock fear. &#034Are you gonna send me to bed without supper?&#034 She did, eventually, ask me again about my feelings. And so I've written them down, all in order, just as it happened. Epilog: Nancy claims it was a double wedding. I think that's stretching the boundaries of the language a bit. The first one was perfectly normal, as such things go, with her stunning in white, and me in a tux. And the wedding night was as perfect as such things can get; it's a bit nervous, being married. For both of us. The second wedding was just us, no f****y, and some of our odd new friends. Found through the internet. Some interesting sorts of people. This time, the bride wore the tux, and the groom wore white. It's a ...
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