Of course, forget about the glass roof, I’d spring for the track-pack and a six speed manual transmission. A girl can dream, can’t she? Make mine ...gotta have it green or grabber blue metallic with the Recaro sport seat option, black wheels, and thick black stripes running the top, length of the car. ‘Wow!’ Returning back to my detestation for sporty and sports cars with automatic transmissions, basically categorizing them all as Buicks with different name plates, instead of driving numb, I’d. I remember hitting the ground hard, my head bouncing slightly off the floor. As I passed out, I could smell old spilled coffee on the indoor/outdoor carpet by my head. I could see in the semi-darkness the patterns the coffee had made in the carpet when it landed there. Before me was a puddle of beautiful brown hair that spilled out in front of my face.My last thoughts were: "Where the hell did all the pretty hair come from?"I don't think I was out long, but it was the idea that I had passed out. Linda raised herself on one elbow and looked over me to Emily who was blinking sleepily. She looked at the girl with a hungry and possessive expression.“You’re my lover. She’s our little plaything.” Linda said lightly, echoing my command. Emily looked up at my wife’s words and blushed prettily at hearing herself described thus.“Well we certainly had fun with her, I will admit.” I said, also grinning possessively over at Emily who returned my smile - if a bit hesitantly.“You’re the kinkiest. An hour or so later, my doorbell rang and he was right on time, to the minute actually.At my unit here I have an internal shared staircase so I buzzed him in and cracked the door to my unit (Seinfeld style).It wasn't long and he, I called him 'Slave Boy', walked in the door. I was standing in my living room waiting. I was wearing a pair of red lycra speedos and nothing else. Once he closed the door behind him, I told him to stay there, in front of the door, and take his clothes off. He did..