She reached down to the edge of her dress and pulled it over her head and tossed it on to the table. She didn’t have an abundance of cleavage, but w...at she had looked fine to me, even though it was still contained and held in place by her black bra. I stood up and reached behind her back to unfasten her brassiere. She slipped the spaghetti straps from her shoulders and set the brassiere on the table. Her boobs were small, her nipples standing strong and erect, standing perky on the end of her. And at 16, how else would a rebellious teenager react, considering it had not been more than 5 years since his own mother had been killed in a car accident. Harry and I had not heard from him since he’d walked out the door that unforgettable June afternoon. And I certainly did not hear from him when his father died and did not see him in attendance at the funeral. There was nothing I could do for him now, the damage had been done. Harry had always been lenient with his only son. I, on the other. More

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