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I didn't have anything to lose, I thought, and I was bored already and slightly turned on after last night's adventure. I ran up the stairs like a kid playing hide and seek and quickly moved towards Phillippa's room. I stopped dead before it, I felt like if I entered there, there was no going back, but I quickly assured myself that that was silly and I was purely entertaining myself in a big empty house. As I opened the door, a number of familiar smells drifted out of the room. Happy childhood memories and experiences came flooding back. I instantly felt guilt as this wasn't my room and nothing in it was mine either. I walked further into the room, it was just how I remembered it, but there was something different but equally familiar. Another note, identical to the one on the fridge, lay on the bed, it had my name on it. "Jamie, if you are reading this then you have decided to explore dressing up further, I knew you would and am delighted. I also knew that you would feel guilty. Melanie was all things to all people. In town, in managerial meetings, or at Scarlett’s school, she exuded a carefully crafted aura of refinement. She was smart, articulate, and always dressed to the nines in a style that was professional, but still alluring, but she and I both knew that underneath that smooth exterior ran a current of raw, unbridled desire. All it took was the flip of a switch—and of "switches," she had many! My favorite was the gentle but persistent flick of my middle finger across her unhooded spongy clit—which I believe to be larger than most women’s, Melanie’s clit was the size of the tip of my pinky finger and it seemed to rest in her boat peeking out most days, just waiting to be roused, and it was plenty big enough to get your lips around. So, in all these ways, my lovely Melanie was wonderfully predictable, and I thought, and I wouldn’t have it any other way! I ran my hands up her abdomen and felt the smooth undulation of her soft tummy until I came to her.
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