“Anyone care to smoke?” he asked casually, holding up a small ziplock bag professionally marked with a medicinal dispensary label. “Omigod, Sam... where did you get that?” gasped my wife, clearly delighted. “I haven’t smoked in years, I used to be a pot fiend in college.” “You were?” I asked, taken aback. I knew that my wife was a bit on the wild side, but I didn’t realize that she had been a pothead. “Oh yes, I was quite naughty before you made an honest woman of me, dear,” she said, drawing. She filled the pause."A garter belt and stockings, Stacey? And look at those flimsy sheer panties. You've put them on OVER your garter belt? Expecting to need them off in a hurry my dear? You look like such a cheap slut." Henry's head turned to ogle me. "Face front!" she snapped. As his head whipped back around she gave him a half-hearted smack with the paddle. "Keep your panties on, Stacey. That sheer fabric will be no protection for your tender white ass." Hey!" Henry protested. "How come she. More

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