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Married beauties discover the joys of sapphic love.

I stood there, letting the steamy water cascade over me. My breasts were so sore, but the water felt so good. I slowly began to feel fresh and clean, but Mr. Wallace was right. I would always remember what he had done to me ... with me. I couldn't get out of my mind the horrible memory of how I had surrendered to Mr. Wallace, of his hands feeling me up, how I was so docile in his arms, how helpless I felt under his massive weight with his penis iin my mouth. Then I heard his authoritative voice from outside the bathroom.

"C'mon, cocksucker, don't you be jerking off in there. Hurry up and get dressed. You have a lot to do before company gets here."

Feeling so ashamed, so used and dominated, jerking off was the last thing I wanted to do. I emerged from the shower and tenderly patted my body dry, particularly my puffy, sore breasts. When I was through, I wrapped the towel around me. I didn't notice until I walked out into the bedroom that I had wrapped it vertically over my breasts, like Shirley had told me a girl should do. I sat in front of the mirror and applied lipstick and makeup like Shirley had shown me. Despite Mr. Wallace having pulled on them, my pigtails were fine.

I found my panties on the floor, but they were damp all over from my perspiration when Mr. Wallace had been atop me, and even more damp in the front from what was obviously my pre-cum. My tiny penis was so hard when Mr. Wallace was kissing me, and I guess ... well ... I had been excited. I pulled the skirt up onto my slender hips with no panties underneath and put on the remaining white top, tying a neat knot under my sensitive breasts and spreading the blouse wide enough to show the middle of my chest and the inside of both breasts.

I looked at myself in the mirror, so much bare, slender torso revealed, my puffy, sore breasts more prominent in the blouse than before. I once again looked fresh and pure -- for all appearances an innocent, sexy, young schoolgirl. Trying to push the memory of my submission to my horrid, fat boss to the back of my mind, I put on my socks and shoes, then glided into the living room and began straightening up the room while Mr. Wallace opened both new decks of cards and helped himself to a beer.

"Damn, Billie," he said, "you could give a statue a hard-on. Now, these guys coming here are my buddies from the Marines. We were fighting Viet Cong long before you were born. When they want a beer, you fetch it right quick or those pictures I have of you won't be a secret anymore. You got that?"

I told him I understood.

"Oh, and one more thing," he said threateningly, "As far as my buddies are concerned, I never touched you. I never kissed you, and I never let you suck my dick. You got that?"

I said a gentle, meek yes and went about cleaning the room. About 15 minutes passed, and then the doorbell rang. Mr. Wallace motioned me to answer it. I hesitated a moment, then kind of nervously walked over and answered the door. A chubby man in his 60s wearing a polo shirt and baseball cap was there when I opened the door. His eyes got big when he saw me and he smiled.

"Now, whose little girl are you?" he said with a laugh. "Old Ted said he would have a maid for the poker game, but I wasn't expecting anything like you. Where is that fat son of a bitch?"

I motioned for him to follow me, and as I led him to the living room, he put a hand on the back of my bare waist for a few steps before letting go.

"I don't believe it," I thought. "This old guy just copped a feel ... on me!"

"Dennis!" Mr. Wallace bellowed. "You old bastard. Great to see you."

They hugged in a manly way, then Mr.Wallace pointed to me.

"Dennis, this is Billie. Billie, this is Mr. Blanchard."

Mr. Blanchard's eyes were all over me as I blushed.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Blanchard," I said softly.


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