She had a look of triumph on her face that sent a chill down my spine. She had me, but good, and we both knew it. Returning to her seat, she picked up the phone and began dialing again. I sat there drained, barely hearing her talking on the phone. My arousal turned to embarrassment. I pictured how I must look in these shiny tights; with my narrow corseted waist and my pseudo-breasts jiggling. And worst of all; with my still-throbbing cock jutting prominently out in front of me. My face felt warm and flushed. What had I gotten myself into? I was trapped and totally at her mercy; with no way to escape. A different kind of tears began to fill my eyes. Involuntarily, I began to whimper. Hanging up the phone, Carol again towered over me. My head hung low; I was unable to face her. "Such a poor baby," she giggled as she gently patted me on the head. I reddened even more in shame. "Here's something to keep you content," she cooed, lifting my chin. I pulled back in amazement. There, inches. The float was the start. While normally I’d let Julie go when we brought the girls home, this time I went off with her, leaving the girls with Stacey and Barbara. If not planned, it had been intended, so I wasn’t imposing. Julie had agreed to come over the next Saturday to meet the girls’ mother. Sunday night was the first night I slept over at Julie’s. She’d asked before, but I was still afraid of rushing into this relationship too quickly. We made long, slow, comfortable love. I settled in beside her and curled up with her. We hadn’t spoken of it, but simply accepted it. I was there in the morning. Waking up next to Julie in the morning. It was comfortable and enjoyable. We made love again, lazily, and were climaxing together just as the alarm rang. It was an incredible coincidence, but Julie couldn’t hold out and confessed that she’d set it off on purpose as she was recovering. I laughed. It had been a good joke. The girls had missed me in the morning when I hadn’t been home to be.
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