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It was all there: the same light blue party dress, the same panties, petticoats, ankle socks, and shiny black mary-janes she had worn on the day of that tragic party so many years before.She was elated – and not a little excited. She felt a frisson running through her body like lightning; her pussy juices started to soak her black lace panties.She couldn’t wait to get dressed. Shucking off her business suit, she eagerly grabbed at the frilly apparel. She slipped into the ruffled panties, lowered the gorgeous little frock over her lithe, petite body, wiggled the fluffy cloud of petticoats over her thighs and under her skirt, pulling the pettis free as they bunched up.Sitting on the edge of the bed, she drew the white anklets over her feet and slipped into the mary-janes.Beatrice kept an array of makeup in the spare room; she sat down and began to paint her face. With deft strokes, she created a little girl’s face, all pink cheeks and ruby-red lips. But there was something missing.Then. I mean it wasn't as if Anne wasn't still enjoying herself as she allowed my father and the regular crowd, both male and female, to enjoy the delights of her delicious and almost constantly naked body.She was of course continuing to do wonders for Bristoll's confidence and that, so my brother cheerfully informed me, was the reason he was so much in love with her. But more importantly, insisted my brother, was that with her for company he didn't feel the insatiable lust to sexually molest girls. My brother even reminded me that Bristoll was fast coming to the conclusion that with time and patience their's could develop into a steady sexual relationship that could have a stabilising effect on him."How about driving up the coast tomorrow? Just the two of us."They were sitting in a restaurant on a Friday night having a coffee after Anne had joined in one of Bristoll's sessions at the gym for the first time.Anne looked at him her eyes beaming their acceptance. "Let's leave fairly early and.
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