"Only for undergarments. I won't wear their idea of clothes. I couldn't." Even for Pirate John?" Not for a pirate I've just met. If we're still seeing each other in six months, ask me again." If?" I said astonished. "IF??" I looked at her...We wound up getting several sexy bras and some boy-cut briefs. Just for my amusement – she said she'd never wear them for anyone else – we got two pair of thong underwear. And shoes. I insisted that she buy the highest heels that she could tolerate. They made her already fabulous legs look even better.We passed the rest of the afternoon and evening modeling her new underwear and fucking like crazed weasels. I introduced her to anal sex sometime that night. She liked it much better in the face-to-face position, with her legs draped over my shoulders. I couldn't object.The next day we drove up to Greenwich, Connecticut, to visit my mother. I drove a rental car. She drove, too: she drove me crazy. She wore a short, flippy little brown skirt with her. I'm normally slow to anger but when I become angry I am hell on wheels to deal with. I was rapidly approaching that point and I think she knew it. By the time we got to our campsite Jean was beginning to apologize for her behavior. She said, "Oh, Honey, I'm sorry. You know how I get when I get hot and sweaty. I just hate to feel this way and those guys seem like really OK people. They were funny and fun to be with and they said their wives were out wandering the camp so I know they wouldn't have tried any funny stuff. Now please, can't I just go over and get my shower and cool off for a while?"I sighed and looked at Jean. "No, I don't want you going over for a shower or to cool off. As far as I know none of them are married but if they are they don't bring their wives to these things. Well, if they do bring them they are swingers because at every one of these rallies I have seen them at they have had different women, sometimes different ones every day."Jean pouted the rest of the day.
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