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Still nervous, I extended one finger into her nice warm inviting slit. I started working it in and out and she turned on the vibrator, placing it against her clit. She was moaning and groaning like an old blues singer. Leaning over, I took one of her tits in my mouth and started to lick, working my tongue and teeth around the nipple, licking and sucking as my finger pumped furiously in her sex."More, give me more!"I plunged another finger in, pumping as she bucked her young hips, trying to get me further inside her vagina. Her back in the air, I reached under with my spare hand and caressed her buttocks, feeling how firm and tight they were. Now, payback time, I licked my finger and forced her rear entrance."Yeooooowwwwwwwwwwwww," she screamed, her face flushed and radiant, she came back down to Earth. Taking each hand she licked them clean before turning to kiss me. Now, instead of my cum on her lips, I could taste hers, and it was much more satisfying.The warning bell went, shit,. The saw warned... well you get the idea. I couldn't stand it and escaped as only a true TV can - I ran into the bedroom and got dressed.At least I tried to. I couldn't help myself; I had to see what those little tags on the clothes said. My bra warned me to wash in cold water and hand dry. My girdle warned me that prolonged squeezing of my abdomen could lead to faintness, intestinal problems and funny marks on my skin. My pantyhose could cause strangled calves if worn too long. Boy was I glad to know that, how could I ever thank our government for looking out for my safety.I began to relax while reading the latest Vain Giant Woman's Clothing catalog, and as you might expect I pickled up the phone (Warning: do not use this instrument when lightning is present or when in the bathtub) and called in an order. The woman was very nice until I ordered a new girdle.There was a pause and then she said: "Sir, new government safety regulations require me to ask you if you are a crossdresser..
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My blank stare must have told her that I needed further explanation. ‘Down there,’ she said, smiling meekly as she opened the door to go out to the lot. ‘Down there,’ I repeated, feeling like a complete dunce when I got it. Millie, who laughed at crude jokes and usually responded with one of her own, had just admitted that she was small, down there. Did that mean what I thought it meant? Was Clifford big, down there? Would I make a mistake by introducing Clifford to Barbara? I looked at the photo again. He had a kindly looking face, not handsome, but gentle, even jovial perhaps. I rationalized, telling myself that it was only one date. On the back of the picture was a telephone number. I would show the photo to Barbara. Should I warn her that Clifford was big, down there? No, it was only one date. If she liked what she saw, I would talk to him, just to set the record straight, it was only to be one date. ‘He’s a mechanic,’ I said as I handed Barbara the photo. ‘He’s…big,’ she.

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