“I don't know why I'm letting you wear clothes. You're a sister-bitch, and it's a beautiful day.”“Right,” she barked. She stood up to kick off...her shoes. Then she wiggled off the pink socks she wore. Next were the jeans. She unsnapped them, her hips wiggling from side to side as she worked off the tight material. She exposed a pair of light blue panties. They were practically a thong but widened into a triangle at the top of her rump. I admired her ass, mostly visible thanks to the cloth. . The last time I measure myself, I was five six-and-a-half. Jeanni's bio says she's five eight, even. That would mean her breasts come just about...here on me,= he thought, placing a hand across about an inch and a half above his own nipples. =No. Real boob nipples ride lower. Don't they?= he thought, lowering the hand. =Of course, they weren't real boobs. Were they? I'm sure I felt something underneath them; between the muscles and the, uh... I held them, for cripes sake!! You'd think I'd. More

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