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He held it up and then slipped his arms through the straps,holding it against his chest, over his shirt. He tried to reacharound back to close it, but couldn't, so he stood there with theback trailing off. "See? No big deal."I did the same, but it was tighter because I was a little bigger,and I also had my shirt on. "Go ahead," John said, and I took offmy shirt, putting the bra on over my own skin. He did the same. We couldn't figure out how to get it on _and_ close it, so firsthe closed the one I was wearing, and I closed his. It felt...funny. Tight, but I found I liked the tightness of it. It smelledof his sister's perfume.Which is as far as it got that day. We joked around a lot, lookedat each other and in the mirror, and after a while, I went home.The next day, when I came over, it was as if a decision had alreadybeen made, even though it had never been discussed. "Let's do it,"John said. He rummaged through the boxes and pulled out the same bra,now with a slip, plaid skirt, and. Staring at me as she did. She turned off the water and said, "I think these floors... They are dirty, so I will scrub them." Oh no, you don't need to..." I began to protest, but she just acted like she didn't hear me and got down on her hands and knees and began to scrub the hardwood in the kitchen. She turned away so I had a beautiful view of her ass in the yoga pants she wore. It was all I could do to not pull out my dick and start to stroke it. When she was done with the kitchen and brought her bucket into the dining room I said, "I feel like I should be paying you extra!" Why?" She seemed genuinely dismayed as she looked up at me from all fours."Well, just because I'm getting a good show here."She gave me a querying look."I just mean... you are worth every penny and then some." You pay good money. You should get what you want," she reasoned.What I was getting at the moment was a gorgeous view right down the front of her tank top to her breasts being cupped in black lace. I stared.
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” He was shaking his head as to how unbelievable her husband actually was and what he did or said to her. He wasn’t sure how to make her feel better. He had never been involved with a woman like this before. And he wanted her to feel a lot better then she was feeling at that point. “I wish there was something I could do that would make your life better,” he went on to say as she cried more. He finally did something although most likely the wrong thing to do and probably the worst thing he could have done as well. Mitchell raised his hand, seeing that another tear was rolling down out of her eye, and he carefully and lightly wiped it away. She liked that. It made her feel…special. She liked how a younger man such as Mitchell would be so bold, so manly that he’d step up, and make her feel so womanly. She looked at him once he did what he had and Bridgette smiled a meek, pretty, and womanly smile. “Thank you,” she said. “It takes a real man to do something like you just did.” “You’re.

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