You release your hands from clasping mine, and slightly wistfully I pull mine away from the delight of cupping you, and with hardly a whisper, the dre...ss falls, sudden as an avalanche at first…slowing at it slithers over your hips, which with a slight wiggle, it slips free, silently creating but a limp shimmering puddle at your feet… You are looking into the mirror to gauge my immediate reaction…my jaw is slack, my eyes fixed, and there is no way of you discerning how dry and parched my throat. Another thing, my Mom always told me to pick my friends that I was the most comfortable with. I feel comfortable with you and if you had come on to me as Sharon has been doing, you would have been turned down as well. Are you getting a sense of what kind of a person I am yet?" But can I believe you? Lord knows I want to. It isn't normal for a white boy to want to take out a black woman without looking for something." But you are willing to go out with me to see if I'm what I say I am, aren't. After our long drive, we eventually arrived at a house pretty much in the middle of nowhere. We were two hours North of the city, in cottage country but pretty isolated from the traditional weekend getaway spots. The house that we were visiting was definitely a house, and not a cottage. It looked like an old manor home that had been restored. It was a far cry from a mansion, but much bigger than any house that we’d ever see living downtown.“Who’s place is this anyway?”“I don’t know really, a. He inspects me intimately, tapping at the clothespins, noticing how they've left quite a mark on my swollen lips. He pulls them off, one at a time, laughing about the indentations they've made. As a gift to me, once the pain of recirculation hits me, he presses the beer up against my cunt. It's embarrassing but an immense relief."Sit up," he commands. He tosses bits of fabric at me. There are thigh high stockings, black, trimmed in white ruffled lace, as well as a number of things like look.