That night, as we dressed and made up, our talk ranged from X to XXX. Tran and I had popped a couple of my Desoxyn and she had poured some Grand Marni...er. The drugs and booze combined to put me into a horny, edgy haze. Tran had found one of her old pre-boob job party dresses for me, and its post boob job replacement for herself. It was a short, tight, black, spaghetti strap shift. It plunged at the neckline, and displayed my small, firm breasts demurely and appealingly. On Tran, the plunging. People made comments about our sudden maturity, but nobody had openly accused us of acting effeminate, and we slowly became more comfortable in our environs.One Saturday morning, a couple of weeks after school had begun, I walked alone down to the city library. Using the microfilm reader, I read though the old newspaper accounts of the Westervelt family. It was like a wonderful walk down memory lane as I read about my former life. I wept uncontrollably when I read the accounts of my son Peter's. When I thought about it, the power-transfer aspect that many women seemed to crave from pegging their husbands, had already happened when I forced him into the re-nup agreement. I had won the option of cuckolding him and now I wanted to go much further beyond humiliation with him. Why was I fantasizing about becoming like Mrs. Fuscia, a woman I despised? I had been telling myself that I wanted to find out what kind of man Dan is. I had been thinking along alpha or beta male lines, but my shrink. Bht aacha feeling aa rha tha vo dherre dheere apna face wahan p le gya uski saas tezz thi pta lg rha tha n tounge nikala aur dono legs k beech m rakh diya. Hairs the wahan p bt he kept on licking slowly rising mere balls se hte hue lund p ekfull lick n phir muh m le liya. Vo moment p aisa feel hua jaise ki lund p bht sara gel lga diya ho n vo slide kr rha ho bht jada mazza aa rha tha i started mouth fucking him pehle toda toda phir deep andar tk vo dhakka dene lga bla aacha nai lg rha h mat kro.