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Knowing how she loves it when I lick and kiss along her inner thighs while my hands massage over her ass and outer thighs...the feel of her squeezing ...er thighs against my head as she runs her fingers through my hair as my lips and tongue play over her swollen pussy and tease her aching clit. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Susan shifts her hips in her chair, briefly uncrossing and crossing her legs...reminding me of the way she rhthmically moves and gyrates her hips with the massaging. After more than a half hour, Mr. Harris, the newly hired marching drill instructor, saw me in the bleachers and came to visit me."Ah, Mr. Crittenhouse. Have you reconsidered the marching band?"I laughed. "I have enough stuff on my plate right now, sir." I waved toward the band. "I was noticing how different the acoustics are out here compared to how the band sounds in the auditorium."Roger Harris gave me a surprised look. "That would be a given."I didn't want to sound like a show off, so I. Chief Jones offered me one and I think I will take him up on it. Perhaps, Mister Glock should ride with us for a while.”The rest of the ride back was quiet.We went inside and Frank headed upstairs to dress and give Pam some underclothes even if she wore one of Lisa’s dresses.We went to Sunday school in my car and Paul’s. Our class was glad to have Lisa back but Pam was obviously a big hit with them. Frank and I stayed back while our wives were mobbed by the students. I didn’t mind that they. I could hear her heels tip-tapping up the old, walnut staircase to her chambers as I went about the labyrinthine aisles, gingerly placing displays of bone china back into their respective cupboards. I knew she was fetching me an outfit. I wrinkled my brow, imagining myself as Mathilde from that de Maupassant story—doomed to slave away here for ten years after spilling red wine on some vintage haute couture of preposterous expense.Catching sight of my reflection in a silver tea tray, I tried.
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