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When they're finished they'll come into the library where I'm sitting waiting for them. This will be the first time they've touched each other and I'm not going to miss a minute of it. I'm sitting in a big padded chair diagonal to the door. My husband, Matt, comes in first. He looks more comfortable in his dress than I ever imagined he would. The dress I picked out for him reminds me of that famous picture of Marilyn Monroe where she's standing on the grate with her skirt being blown up. His is bright blue though. When I signal for her to turn around for me she does, and it's nice to see she's having just a little trouble in the six inch heels. I point her towards the couch across from me. When she sits down with her legs spread out I glare at her until she sits up straight like a proper lady. Shortly after she gets settled my lover, Derek, walks in looking far more comfortable in the clothing I set out for him than my husband does at the moment. "There's my girl, close the door,". Then, on the next circuit, I felt his hands open out as he drew them down. I gave a tiny whimper as I felt his hands descend to be fully on my breasts, skimming over my nipples and then away to my sides. I freaked inside, but I didn't move. I was still trying to figure out what was going on. His hands pressed in and ran up my sides, then again, his hands opened out. I knew his hands were going to pass over my breasts again. His hands moved down, pressing more firmly, and began to pass over my breasts. In that moment, I had a sudden, shocking thought. Was having my breasts massaged part of what I had agreed to? His hands moved around, up, and then down over my breasts again, catching my nipples, making them quiver and bobble about as I whimpered. Was he now doing what I had actually paid for him to do? Had I paid for him to massage my breasts? It seemed to be the awful truth. I felt his hands again, moving more firmly over my breasts and nipples. I couldn't.
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