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"Miss Sally! How are you?" I replied.Her blush became crimson. "Uh," she choked, "would you ... mmm ... mind ... mmm..."I laughed, and said, "Come on, baby, spit it out!"Her crimson became fluorescent. "I wonder if you'd go to the Sadie Hawkins dance," she rasped; then, "with me." She was not looking at me.I laughed, a belly laugh at this point. She looked stricken, and began to turn away; I took her hand, brushed it against my lips as before, and said, "I will gladly attend the dance with you, sweet Sally."Her fluorescence became radioactive; but somewhere in that nervousness, a smile emerged. "Okay," she croaked, scurrying away.The swings and errors of outrageous adolescent emotions stabilized, and we were able to resume normal conversation during the school day. The dance was another two weeks out; I asked my mother to assist me in learning to dance. Hell, she'd been bugging me to learn, as had my father; my sisters thought it was funny, watching me try to lead Mama, and following. "No, no sugar. You're going to clean the place dressed the wayyou are. Fix your face too, your mascara is a mess, your face needs somework and you need more lipstick. It's smeared all over your face. Maybeyour date has more info I would love to hear." I had cried on my wayhome feeling sorry for myself and getting raped by some guy. I keptwiping off dry cum with a tissue and my saliva and made a mess with mylipstick, foundation and powder.I set my purse on the table and she rummaged through it. She laughed atthe contents especially the condom, panty liner and tampon. I proceededto pack up all my things then cleaned the bathroom and bedroom,vacuuming the bedroom floor and even washing the bathroom floor on myhands and knees. My wife was watching and I think got pleasure inwatching me work like a maid. She finally left me alone while I heardher talking on the phone in the other room. No what was she scheming?It took two hours to finishing packing and cleaning and my wife told meto come.
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