"Dress up time," I said. Chelsea watched what I laid out for the evening. My black dress was short and the front was low cut. I put on my garter belt ...nd pulled on my white seamed stockings. I slipped my dress over my head and after adjusting it, I looked in the mirror. My breasts were still carried high and my nipples, being hard, pushed out and made themselves known to others. I do think I looked slutty enough for tonight. The men wore nice slacks and a matching long sleeve shirt. Very. I followed her down the hallway – trying to ignore the faint but persistent smell of cats that always hung around her house. Betty had never been what you would call “houseproud” – she vacuumed rarely and dusted less and the place was cluttered with unopened junk-mail, dirty cups and saucers, clothes awaiting ironing – all manner of stuff. She might be a pillar of the church but she was a slut about the house.She was muttering as she led the way into the sitting room – “I don’t know what I’m. More

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