"Not so fast, my love. Let's get you dressed andmoved into my place first." Why? If mom's a sorceress too, and knows about this, why not wait for he...to get home?" Because your brother doesn't know about it, and your mother needs time,after seeing what you have changed into, to get him prepared." Okay, I forgot about him. Does he have any sorcerous potential?" Minimal. Not enough to bother with."I picked up my bikini top, which had popped off when my tits grew to theircurrent size. "Cripes.. ” I thought “She’s planning something special? What could be more special that this? She set me up with two other women. How is she going to beat that?” Donna stood up and asked if I wanted to undress her. I went to her and asked “Where should I start?” She lifted her arms and I pulled her top up over her head. Her perky breasts didn’t move. They were small and each one could be covered with one hand. I brought my mouth to one of her nipples and started to lick it. I used a palm to stimulate. Her green eyes glowed as she returned my stare. Was she undressing me as I was her? The inner halves of her collarbones moved gently as she breathed. Her ample bust, squeezed together, invited, almost dared you to stare down at the swell of her breasts. She was a large, but well proportioned woman, who, by her stature, was very self assured. As my eyes peeled off her dress, my mind saw two large, proud mounds, jutting from her chest, crowned with large, dusty rose colored areola's, topped with. You were the only person sitting out there apart from the receptionist who was too busy talking to insurance people and calling back other patients to remind them of their appointment. You followed the petite dark haired woman down the corridor, stopping when she stopped. She showed you to one of the three rooms used by the two dentists sharing the space. You couldn't help but notice how cute and tight her scrubs looked, hugging her slim waist and pushing up her breasts. You then wondered if.
Read More‘Now?’ she said. I nodded. ‘Ohmigod. You naughty boy.’ There were go again, an eighteen-year-old calling me a boy. What makes them do this? Sh
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