“Hi Antoinquette I’m Adam”, you say forcefully stepping into my personal space to embrace me and thereby interrupting my non-platonic thoughts o... you. As an afterthought I notice your military-short blonde hair, what’s left, the haunting hazel eyes, Danish high cheek bones, square jaw line and signature tanned and smooth skin, a sun by-product of your Northern Territory upbringing, neatly packaged into a Gemini energy field, ‘pedigree Australian born and bred’ and featuring the classic muscular. Now the sight of the large pink tits was heavenly. I kissed them, pressed them. And each time I pinched her tits she let a slight moan. I didn’t expect her to be a moaner. Then I again turned on towards the lips. When we were kissing, her hands were moving around my rock man. It was rock solid. My hands went around her waist and then unbuttoned her jeans. I couldn’t pull it down myself. The girls wear so tight jeans these days that it would even stop the blood flow from a gunshot wound. She. We had travelled different roads but had both ended up at the same place. Mid-twenties, married to older, successful, career men. My husband is a concert promoter / band manager and is in a prime position to get the pick of the up and coming, barely dressed, blond bimbo's who are looking to break into the music biz.I must admit this was me when I first met him, dancing around a pole as I sang Tina Turners Private Dancer. He was checking out the club for an upcoming gig for a band he was. My hair is done in loosecurls and it looks like it's all mine! I feel so beautiful.She tells me to "wait right here."I keep admiring my look. I can't believe that's actually me.She comes back with a few dresses, tight and flowy, a couple of rompers,and some skirt and top combinations. She told me to try them on andmodel them for her. She closed the door and I start the fashion show.All of the clothes fit. I couldn't believe it. And I look absolutelyfabulous. I needed help with one of the.