I turned and adjusted the shirt here and there, brushed lint from the back of the jeans. A quick spray of perfume and I was ready.And then there was a...knock upon the door.My heart pounded in my chest. You were here for me at last. I tried to slow my breathing and calm myself. The gesture was futile and I knew it. You rapped upon the door once more."Just a moment," I called loudly and tried to calmly walk to the door. I took a few breaths, grabbed the handle and turned it.You stood in the. The end always came when I could no longer contain the hardness of mylittle penis inside the tight panties and I would lay on my mother's bedto masturbate.The images that ran through my mind as I pleasured myself were alwayssimilar. Sometimes I imagined that I was an underwear model marching infront of a crowd that looked at me with admiration and desire, but most ofthe times I dreamed that I was my own mother. I imagined myself walkingaround the house half-naked like she used to, or sunbathing. More

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