I was wearing the stockings and suspenders shehad bought me, all day, because she told me to and I didn't dare not.I got there early and waited. When...she arrived, wearing all black asusual, she looked straight through me until she sat opposite and said,'I'm glad you've done as you were told, get me a drink.'We talked about nothing in particular, killing time, waiting for theright moment. Timing is everything. 'Let's go, I need to take you shopping,' she said, 'it's about time youdressed. Iwas a little surprised how earthy the conversation became after alittle wine had been consumed, and was also not expecting the handsthat fondled my bottom and groped up my skirt as I was serving thefood. But I began to notice the women more and wondered what sort ofunderwear they had on, and I was jealous of their breasts. I wished Ihad tits of my own. Finally, my wife said, "Well dear, that was lovely.Thank you very much. But I expect you have some clearing up to do inthe kitchen?" I took the. . . 636 . . . I stopped and faced her door. Was she even home? Would she even want to see me. That made me feel better. I had probably pissed her off. With that thought, I turned and started back. The door opened. “Hey, Jack,” a familiar voice said. “Where ya going, Jack?” Slowly, I turned back to her. She leaned casually against the door frame. Her long, black hair fell loosely over her shoulders, over a red shirt with a plunging neckline that showed off an ample bosom. A black skirt stopped. ” Tom continued when he finally met Laura's pupils once again. His composure seemed to return with yet another tweak of his cuff, then a tug on his collar, his neck rolling inside it. “I think that we should perhaps go upstairs. I have a room there where we can discuss your... assets and how they might be better handled. What do you say?”“Wonderful!” She stepped up from the table, her clutch-bag tucked against her side. Her other arm extended, for Mr Barnett to link with his own, as he got to.
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