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That is not entirely true. After I helped Christy take off her clothes, she helped me take off mine.Once Christy pulled my boxers off and saw what was waiting, she just said, “Oh, My God. You ARE! You ARE!”And if you can’t figure that one out, then you need to go back and read the story again.The rest of the day, and night, both of our mouths, and other parts, were busy bringing pleasure to the other.So ... how much of Christy’s list of things she wanted us to do did we get accomplished that night, all the next day and the next night?Gentlemen never tell.After the most incredible two days of my life, my weekend was finally over. Which is something of a misnomer, since that week, my weekend was actually composed of Tuesday and Wednesday since I usually worked at least three Saturdays and Sundays of every month. With the way Bates rotating schedule worked, one week my “weekend” would be Tuesday and Wednesday, the next would be Thursday and Friday, the next would be Sunday and Monday,. But all she could do was stare at my protruding member. “Look, am I free to go now, or what?” I asked, rather testily. She just stood there, kind of frozen in place, staring at my extended member. Finally, she tried to stammer out an apology, which was rather incoherent until the end, when she said “Is there any way that I can make this up to you? I’ll do anything. I really can’t let this get reported to the chief.” Without the glare of the flashlight, my eyes had now become accustomed to the dark. I got my first real look at the woman who had pulled me over. Even with the chunky body armor and gunbelt bristling with equipment, it was obvious that she had a pretty good body. My cock continued its salute. “I’ll tell you what; you let me frisk you the way you just frisked me, and we’ll call it even.” I was mostly joking, but she appeared to take it quite seriously. “Really? You feel me up and we’re square?” I was a little surprised at her response. “Sure, why not?” I saw what I.
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