Panty Town

"Hi, Mr. Sanders!" the little sexpot said. "Is Jamie ready?"

Joe was puzzled. "I'm sorry, Honey. Jamie and her Mom just went shopping
and won't be home for some time."

Poor Angela looked so sad. Joe's heart ached for her, especially when she
began to cry.

Joe said, "Come in, Sweetheart. I'll take you over to the mall and we'll
find them. I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding. Jamie would never stand
you up."

No one with a functioning brain cell would stand Angela up. Poor Joe's cock
was rock hard as he hugged Angela to comfort her.

"Oh, Mr. Wilkins, I can't do that yet. I thought Jamie and I would be
playing tickles right away. I haven't been milked in HOURS! I need it right
now! It hurts! <Sniffle>"

Joe didn't know what to do. Then he did. "Well, Angela. Uh. I could milk
you."

Angela stopped sobbing, then looked at Joe. Did she bat her eyes when she
said, "Oh, could you?"

"Sure," Joe said. Then he sat in the easy chair where he always sat to milk
Jamie.

Angela's panties were off in microseconds. An instant later, she was
rubbing her bare bottom through Joe's trousers onto Joe's stiff pork. They
must do the milking thing differently at the Wilkinses, he thought.

Joe, it must be clear, could be dim at times

She kissed Joe really nicely, then pulled his zipper down. She pulled his
stiff rod out, rubbing her silky fingers up and down its length as she
kissed him.

Who was milking whom?

Who cared?

Joe kissed Angela back, in respect for the Wilkins milking technique and
because her tongue was halfway down his throat. How aggressive Angela had
become. It must have been the daily fuckings by two or three A-, B-, C- and
even D-list boys. And her step-Granddad's excellent milkings. And the
tickles games with all the other sissies in Panty Town.

What a place! It's easy to find. Just three miles due west of Fromage. You
should visit.