She said she and Suzy would model them for me as theyjumped into the bedroom with a wink. I know you know what's coming dearCindy Seranade story reade...r but I had no idea.Imagine how stunned I was when 15 minutes later out came 2 French Maids.It was the sissy maids dress that Ann drew on me 5 years earlier, butmade of shiny PVC. The puffed sleeves and bust were edged with white laceand the dress started from just below the bust billowing out withmultiple layers of frills. It was short. Very. ’ ‘What?! You mean my sister has…’ And the poor thing had stomped off to the bar in disgust, to watch from a safe distance as Elizabeth humoured her numerous mourning admirers with one last dance. I had commiserated with them in silence, my one regret of the moment being that – even as I had enjoyed numerous rolls in the arms of her dearest friend and one with her fiancé – I had never had the chance to make love with Elizabeth. Perhaps just as well, I convinced myself, that I hadn’t tasted such. I know I must havethrashed and screamed, but I don’t recall any of that –only the echoes of that monumental come.I have no idea how long it lasted – hours, maybe – butmy next memory is of floating, my breathing stillragged, and becoming aware that the flower’s organ wasnow thrusting methodically in and out of me. I think itmust have waited until I had nearly regainedconsciousness to start simulating me again. That ribbedshaft was certainly doing the trick. My. From then on I was Bert M—no period, just like Harry S Truman—Cochran. My parents were livid. They refused to speak with me and when I joined the U. S. Army instead of going to college I was disowned. I still had the trust fund--they couldn’t touch that--but everything else was gone. I didn’t care even a little. My childhood had been spent with nannies and at boarding school until I had intentionally flunked out. My mother was almost a total stranger. My father was even less.I served six.