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I'd been a real shit. I started to look sorrowfully at Jane, and sometimes our unhappy glances would meet half-way. The next night, while she was sleeping, I reached to cradle her breast gently, and I snugged in against her. But she didn't wake up. And in the morning when I woke we were on opposite sides of the bed, facing away. I don't think she knew I'd forgiven her, and I still hoped she'd forgiven me.That Friday I decided how to deal with it. I showed up for dinner in my red leather mini and black net stockings, and the black fuzzy sweater I wore for my big night out on the town, when I almost got laid and officially certified a BiGirl in fact. And my straight black wig, and all the cheap jewelry. The same outfit I'd worn to the Percherons, and then to that Night club where half the BiGirls had disappeared with men who were not their husbands, and I had barely escaped with my virtue."Let's go out!" I said. "Meet some people. I want to party!"She looked at me peculiarly for a long. You can't know me without using your God-given imagination. That image," he said, pointing at the crucifix, "is so revolting and I am so out of here."With that last statement, Jesus walked out the main doors of the sanctuary. Travis slept on.The afternoon sun prodded his eyeballs and forced him to blink. Travis sighed with joy, enjoying the delicious haze of waking up rested and feeling whole. The warm body snuggled up next to him seemed to curl into him like a..."Holy Shit!" he said through his clenched lips. He looked down and saw the girl snoozing happily with her head resting on his chest. His arm was laying over her shoulder and down her back in a protective clutch. His pants were tented. On one hand, he wanted to jump out of bed and on the other hand, he didn't want to scare her. On the third hand, not that he had one at the moment, she was jailbait, bad, bad deliciously tantalizing jailbait.Travis shifted in bed and the girl stirred. She hoisted herself onto her elbow and gave.
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She sat, feeling the tears well up in her eyes and ease themselves out of the corner and down her cheek. “Aaahh! Aaahh!” Salim heard from Amna’s room. Oh God! They were! They were! She let loose an unexpected choke of pain and misery, and buried her tearstrewn face in her hands, small tears falling hot and moist onto her bare breasts and her mouth feeling as ugly and raw as she envisaged Fluff’s cunt which she could yet again see so vividly in her mind’s eye. Why couldn’t it be her that Amna loved so passionately? What did that slut have to offer that she didn’t? It was then that Salim heard the door close again. Was it Fluff leaving? Salim wondered with hope. But no the passionate cries continued as before. It must be Fatty! She raised her head to see Fatima in her stockings, tight dress and makeup, standing by the door and gazing at Salim sympathetically. “I see they’re at it again!” She said, nodding towards the source of the commotion. Salim gazed at Fatima through the salt in.

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