All I wanted to do was dream about fucking them.I was pretty dumb all right.Dipping my fingers into the jar of Vaseline, I rubbedup my stiff cock with...slippery stuff. Then I opened my magazine.The first "pictorial" showed four delicious panty boysin "street clothes." They were emerging from a department store laden with shopping bags. In a flashof pastel dresses whose skirts were barely coveringthe tops of silky, tan stockings, and tottering alongin barely-there sandals with five-inch-stiletto. Catherine (never Cathy or Kat, always Catherine) was tall, probably close to six feet. She hand a slender, toned, athletic body, with breasts that were a bit outsized for her, probably at least D-cups, but considering her height, most likely DD or Es. (It was a long time ago, forgive me.) Regardless, one Saturday morning when my Dad was at work, I wandered over to the communal area. No one was there but Catherine, and I noticed she was doing yoga. As luck would have it, Mom had enrolled us in a. More

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