Chapter Twenty-Eight
To New Jersey, the George Washington Bridge is flowing well on a summer’s Saturday evening. The directions are simple, our destination one of those upper middle class suburban towns. The drive is short.
Jack’s p***s has been returned to its cage. I’ve pantied him in baby blue, his blanket wrapped about his nakedness. His fortitude begins to wane as I pull the car up to a large house. There are other cars parked in the front and our hostess gave instructions to park in the one remaining space in the driveway. Darkness is approaching. Still, before exiting, I must coax a reluctant Jack from the passenger seat. Shyness brings cold feet.
“Why must you do this to me?” he again protests.
“Why does your p***s stiffen whenever I release it?” I question in reply, taking his
