She insisted onshowing me something and handed me a photograph. It wasme in the dress. But without the wig and it was obviousthat it was me.“Whe...e did you get that?” It was a stupid question toask, I admit. I let her in.“Doesn’t matter. There are more.” She watched me. I wasthinking furiously.“Strip.” She had obviously waited until she figured Ihad thought things through and knew what the score was.“Listen…” I started.“No talk,. ..with a nice, soft kiss...." She moved her fingers to the waist band of my shorts and slowly drew the material over the head of my skyward pointing cock, only far enough to expose the flared cockhead, red and waiting.She leaned her head forward and planted a soft, dispassionate kiss on the exposed cockhead, a kind of "How-nice-to-see-you-again" kiss. She then pulled her head back and, staring right at my tumescent member, slowly drew the shorts all the way down, pulling them from side to side. More

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