I got home that evening about the usual time and checked the mailbox as usual. Included was a small package wrapped in generic white paper that I had...been expecting. It had the return address indicated the initials "LPM" which caused me to smile with devious delight. Remember the store Grace ventured to? La Petite Morte. It was dinner time and Grace was making dinner for the both of us. She skipped over to me like a kid and planted a wet kiss on my lips with a quick "Hi Daddy"! Damn! She. ‘You can have lots more of me before it is over.’ ‘Oh God,’ she giggled as she let him go, ‘I could just eat you up.’ The doorbell saved him, sort of. There was little doubt who it was, of course, and he sauntered to the front door and pulled it open, somehow only vaguely cognoscente of the fact that he was naked except for the plastic device that was trapping his aching manhood. The ladies behind him gave Carol a loud chorus of welcome, and she smiled and waved as she looked him up and down. More

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