Instead she started wearing sweat pants and baggy, shapeless tee shirts at home. It became her cultivated ‘slob’ look, and it was comforting to he... in a kind of perverse way. ‘After all,’ she thought, ‘If all of this about me is so drab and gray, why shouldn’t I look that way?’ She got no answer to that one, and so she extended her ‘pity party’ to include her new ‘slob’ look. ‘Well, ‘the Ultimate John’ is not coming back,’ she reasoned with herself, ‘So why not just be comfortable around the. ” I kiss the sides of her face, her neck, her shoulders, and smile when she leans back against me. I release her bra. I continue to caress her with my lips as my hands lift her breasts and then my fingers circle her nipples without touching them.“What cup size are these breasts?”She whispers, barely audible, “I wear a D-cup.”“Master.”She does not respond to my prompt and I roughly grip her right nipple. She jumps and my lips feel her tears renew down her face.“I ... I wear a D-cup, Master.”I. More

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