.. are we still really, really friends?"I blushed. "Your my own special, very only, very umpeenth-degree friend." And you're my special little man, ho...," she said, but she wasn't smiling, except weakly, sympathetically.We talked a little more, I don't remember what we said. She seemed absent minded. It was not until Saturday night that I discovered what she was thinking.It was all quite complicated. At least, it was for Martha Jane. As an adult I now understand, but as a 9-year-old I could not. And keep the panties on. Now!!" she instructed.Evan sighed, taking the bag from her, not bothering to argue. Onceagain, he unzipped his pants, and then shimmied out of the panties. Hetook the belt out of the bag and stared at it for a moment, notcompletely sure how to put it on. Still, he knew he had to do, and hewasn't about to ask for help. He slipped it on around his waist, andthen adjusted it to fit the girth of his current endowment- not wantingit to be tight, especially since he could. More

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