I. "I'm Not Really A Waitress" nail polish to match.I was all woman down to my shaved and creamy skin, in clothes from pantiesand bra to pink barrette...in my hair, all borrowed from my husband, asMichelle now called herself, and I was here to get fired, so I could filemy suit and become the happy housewife. I had done my hair myself asMichelle watched, and I had amazed us both with how sexy it looked afterwashing, conditioning, rolling and styling.My instructions, to be followed under threat of. I enter & close the door behind me & opening the cupboard door take out your chain & clip it to your collar. I pull you to your feet & you stand with your legs apart & your hands behind your head. You know that this position means you will be inspected & I will almost vertainly become aware of what you did while I was out. Standing behind you I reach around & cup your breasts in my hands & as your nipples harden I squeeze them between my fingers. I run my hands down your legs to ensure they are. There was a handful of condoms besides the usual girl stuff but, no pictures. I looked down at my sleeping daughter who was unaware of being exposed and open to my stares.I ran downstairs and grabbed the camera. Becky was so drunk that she didn't notice the flash, as I took about 10 Polaroids of her laying there with her naked womanhood showing. I even sampled her pussy a little... feeling the slippery cum between my fingers. I pushed her top up, exposing her pale, jutting breasts. I tweaked. As dark as it was among the stacks of boxes, I was sure they would have to pass a flashlight over me to see me. I just stood stock still and waited.Their voices got closer and when I thought they would pass the intersection I was at, they went by and started getting farther from me, but I hadn't seen them.I figured out that they were in a nearby aisle. I traced the wall back the way I had come until I found an opening and raced up that path trying to catch up to them. The problem was my boots.
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