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Marti was far too nervous to remember what she might need in the way of groceries, although she remembered about hair care products, and selected shampoo, conditioner, a good comb and a brush, and an assortment of hair clips and scrunchies and berets. As an afterthought, she selected some nail polish as well.The clerk, a young man, slipped her a scrap of paper, with directions to his apartment. He leered at her, staring mostly at her breasts. Marti felt sick. With her groceries in hand, she hurried home and closed the door behind her. Her heart was pounding.But she'd done it. She'd ventured out in public as a woman and survived.***That night, Marti sat in the bed wearing her camisole and kimono, and watched an old horror flick. She fell asleep before it was over. When she woke up the next morning, she cursed herself for being an idiot. Her doctor was always warning against prolonged immersion in the sens-D tank, although studies had shown that people could go several days at a. 'God damnit!' You vent as you slam your fist on the freshly cleaned white siding of your 2 story, 5 bedroom house. You see a large rock and just want to hurl it at the car in frustration. The pit of your stomach is tight as you breathe deep and turn back into the entrance... and great, to make matters worse, your infant son Adam begins crying from his room.Your wife is out of town, your daughter is being a royal bitch and she left you with the baby crying. This week home was supposed to be your time to unwind and just have to yourself, and it's falling to shit so quickly.The baby's crying drowns into the background as you just think to yourself.. Just.. a few hours is all you want, at least. You had plans to watch the game, order terrible food that the wife would never let you eat.. maybe even play some god-damn video games for the first time since Adam was born. You've worked too hard to pay for this life and just.. you deserved this weekend to be easy. Please.. just.. one weekend.
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She was so toned, and she still had much of the muscle from her training days, but paradoxically she’d softened so nicely. It wasn’t long before his hands had gone so high up her thigh that his thumbs were caressing the outline of the base of her right buttock, well above the boundary of the underwear. He had a raging erection now, and eagerly wanted her to see or feel it inadvertently, to let her know how hard he was, but he resisted, and somehow found a satisfaction in doing so. ‘How’s that?’ he asked. ‘Mmmmmmm,’ she said. ‘Nice. Don’t go too high, though.’ ‘Why not?’ he asked, and lifted his left hand so that his index finger was touching her crotch. She gasped a little, and then wiggled a little to force more pressure down on his finger. ‘I’m a little embarassed…’ ‘About what? How wet you are? That’s probably just sweat from the jogging.’ ‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘Not at all.’ Then she laughed. ‘And you’re only giving me a massage!’ ‘How’s your back?’ he asked, and she giggled, before.

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