I had this on over a black t-shirt that had belonged to an uncle ofmine, who visited us between his stints at the prison work camp. UncleDean was 6'7"...and skinny as a rail, and on me his shirt came clear downto my knobby knees. And after I ran it under our ancient Singer sewingmachine, neatening up the edges where he'd ripped the sleeves off, itsort of looked like a dress on me.Whenever I had the house to myself for a few hours I would comb my hairdown my forehead into bogus little bangs, and. There were bucks, big bucks and because there had been no hunting since last year, they were not flighty. I told them to send pictures to my email after the hunt.When I woke up at 5 Jenny and Vicky were already gone. It was their night to be together and it worked out so they would not wake anybody getting ready for the hunt. Lorrie was sleeping with me and the boys were in the crib. They would sleep another hour.I quietly showered and dressed to the smell of coffee, I wondered who was up and. I could physically feel the pulsing of her vagina as the orgasm bowled over her small frame leaving her nearly unconscious and trembling like she was having some kind of fit.I slid my fingers down keeping some pressure on her clit but striving for her opening, it was nearly nibbling at my fingers as it pulsed and exuded the slick juices from deep in her core. Slowly the contractions slowed, her shudders easing and a field of goose bumps flowed over her exposed skin. Gently I drew my fingers out. Funny thing is if I was here alone, I would have left the drapes closed, keeping the place dark and dismal and effectively sealing myself off from the world as had been my custom. I liked it so much better this way. Becky was in the kitchen, sitting on the counter on top of the dishwasher, reading the paper. She heard me coming and peeked out from above the paper, and I knew she was smiling even though I could only see her eyes. ‘Good morning!’ I said in the most chipper voice I could manage..