Sheloved the feel of the lacy hem; like butterfly wings brushing on herthighs.Michele sat down in front of the dressing table and slipped her feet int...her high-heels; although a size eleven her feet were not grotesque becausethey matched the proportions of her body. After all she was a small sizeeight in men's shoes and her feet were considered quite small for a man.She turned her chair sideways to the dresser so that she could adjust herstockings; she pulled the sleek nylon taught on her. He could see my legs, and I could see his. Even Steven, right?I said I was young ... yes?He didn’t say anything, probably because his penis was so recently emptied and comfortably soft. Parity aside, I looked at him with new eyes. His legs were really white, but they were muscled. He didn’t have a pot belly in any way, shape or form. I wasn’t sure how old he was, except that he was my mother’s older brother and my mother was thirty-four. Once again, my mouth ran away with me as the freedom to. More

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