The breeze had dropped and it was a warm evening. It was wonderful to be outside with bare smooth legs and a short skirt. My skirt allowed the refreshing air to swirl and settle around the tops of my thighs and crotch in a way that trousers and shorts could never do. I pushed the thought away, shocked with myself for my abject surrender to my wife’s version of my new extreme femininity.
Patrick is back; or should I say Patricia? Continue Reading