She set it aside. "Let's go outside. I'm sick of this office."She stood and I tried not to lick my lips; I did feel my cock quiver. She was a big, hea...thy woman with a fine rack and a shapely ass, mid to late thirties, maybe five-ten or so and a good hundred and fifty, I guessed.I followed her out a side door, admiring her rolling buttocks in her tight britches. She wore short boots and a loose-fitting shirt, open at the throat. Her hair was tied back with a piece of rawhide and flowed richly. Madison could already see how the male urinals found in every American public facility could be adapted to such a use. She could also imagine the public-decency furor. How would one achieve such a straddle?—would she have to drop her trousers and then waddle forward? What about if she was wearing a dress, how would she keep all of that out of the way? And what about this whole bending-forward-with-her-pants-around-her-ankles business? She could see the Christian right making a huge fuss about. More

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