Instead she stood her ground impressively, leaving their bodies scant inches from each other. ‘You know, I could force you to tell me what I want to...know.’ she said seriously, assuring him verbally that the threatening posture he tried to assert was useless in her presence. ‘You think so?’ he questioned, voice full of false bravado. ‘You might just find that I’m not like most of the humans that fall beneath you.’ he said coldly. Trying to remind himself, despite the gnawing twist of desire his. But I didn't realize what until later that morning when I was rinsing some of our lingerie. Monica's panties were only lightly soiled, with that heavy, musky aroma I was learning to love dearly, I spent so much time with my nose in her crotch. Mine were stiff with a clear dried fluid in front, which I recognized as my post-vasectomy cum. I wondered how it got there. But the seat of my prettiest panties, the ones I'd worn last night, was stiff with dried, thick stains and streaks, gobbets of. More

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