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She didn't come out for a minute or so, and Max knew exactly what she was doing. She returned with the dildo and a bottle of lube. She set both of them down on the coffee table. She unzipped her jacket and threw it aside; she wiggled out of her pants and added that to the clothes pile. She was left in her sports bra and thong, an odd, but somehow alluring combination Max thought. Finally she slipped the bra over her head and discarded it. Her perky C cup breasts were out in the open now. She ran her fingers over each nipple, making them hard. She grinned at the sight of her own naked flesh. She then sunk down onto the cushy sofa. She squirted a drop of lube onto the head of the dildo and rubbed it on, imitating a hand job. She then trailed her lubed fingers down her stomach, and in between her thighs. She moved the thong to the side and rubbed her swollen clit. She shivered at her own touch. She trailed her fingers down to her wet hole, circling it before plunging two in. She pulled. I sent her coffee home in one of the many cheap ceramic cups I had bought in my old life. I bought them by the dozen for just such occasions. I hated Styrofoam in any form. No I am not environmentally friendly, they just add taste to things which should not have the taste of plastic. Of course by that time it wouldn't have made any difference. But old habits were going to die extremely hard, I could tell.I had been shot at the end of summer. It was November by the time I got back to my place. I realized that I had to think about how to dress. Not because I got cold, but because other people did. I could wear shorts in November, but people would begin to wonder about me. Life in this new shell was going to be challenging enough without that kind of stupid mistake to draw even more attention to myself.I found some old ratty jeans and a cool sweat shirt with a four inch zipper at the neck. I even put on a nylon shell over it all, so that I could at least look like I was dressed for my.
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