I quickly lifted my twat from his face and he drew in a big gulp of oxygen. I started to apologize when I heard one of the guys yell, “Vanessa, wher... the fuck are you? Get your ass back in here and make the bed so we can begin the next scene!” I froze and put my hand over my husband’s mouth and put a finger to my lips to signal him not to speak. Then I yelled back, “Hey, fuck you! I don’t work for you, you freakishly big dicked negro! I work for your boss. I agreed to do four scenes this. Story is still work in progress, but I wanted to have some feedback before continuing any further. Also if you find any bugs/inconsistensies in the story, please point them out. The story starts to get so complicated with the large amount of variables that I might not notice everythingINTRODUCTION:You are Mike, an 18-years-old boy spending his last summer home, before moving out to college. You currently live in your parents house, conviently located just outside of a relatively large city.Your. He loved to watchthat special moment in the morning after his girl friends woke up whenthey make their first move to put on their bras. Like magic there seemedto be a little thought that would cross their minds telling them thatthey must reach for their bra, hook it together, pull it up and placetheir breasts in the cups. It was automatic, but each of the women musthave had a time in their lives when they entered puberty where every daythey had to be adjusting to the knowledge that this day. They’ll only be looking at me for a moment. As soon as I say ‘Hello,’ you kill the lights and the Keynote begins.”“Very good, Birdie. You won’t have time to be nervous. Once the first slide goes up on the screen, everyone will be looking at that.”Ms. Sloane may be the Brains of the Outfit, but I quickly induced her strategy. She had shortened and shortened the presentation. More photos, graphics, less words.My sainted mother chipped in, “You’re good-looking, Birdie Brewster, a real crowd.