Douglas said, holding up the battered suit up in front of himself. "Mr. Douglas, I don't know how they do things in the big city, but here in the rural heartland of America, real men do not sleep in things only girls wear. Especially those for the boudoir!" "Eb!" Oliver Wendell Douglas said, rearing back his hand, sorely tempted to strike. "I'm just kidding!" Eb smiled, bounding back on his heels, his hands in his jeans' pockets. "I thought so! If you, so help me, tell anybody that you saw me in, in..." "Don't be ashamed, Mr. Douglas. There's a group that meet regularly in Hooterville: The AA." "The "AA"?" Oliver asked, even though he knew he would be sorry. "'Aprons Anonymous'. It's for men who like to dress up in their wives' clothes." "Eb! I do Not like wearing this!! But for some inexplicable reason named Lisa Douglas, there's nothing else in the house that will fit me!!" "Maybe the AA can't help you. You sound incurable!" "Out!! Out!!" Oliver indicated. "Yes, sir!" Eb. "Shouldn't you be out there with your wife?" She isn't my wife and she's left," I replied a bit abruptly.She linked her arm in mine and breathed into my ear. "Then shouldn't you be doing it with me?"We got on the dance floor and she slid into my arms as smooth as silk and as light as gossamer. She was a delight to hold and seemed to melt into my body; meantime a part of my body seemed to want not so much to melt but to enter into hers.Debbie looked me in the eye and without any pretence or artifice said,"I've got a room booked upstairs, let's cut out of here and go fuck."We did ... and we did!I'm not proud of my behaviour but I'm only human. Pippa had just walked off and left me on my tod (alone); a beautiful sexy, and legal, girl had offered herself to me, and I had drunk a few Bacardis, which does tend to increase my libido, I'm glad to say.Once in the room we shed our clothes and were on the bed in a world record time. No preliminary stroking or kissing, it was straight into prick.
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