1. Trust


    Date: 7/17/2015, Categories: BDSM, Shemales, Author: klammer, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    swirl, and to listen to the sounds of the heels. &#034It's nice,&#034 I finally managed. It was a good fit, too. &#034Nice?&#034 she asked, pouting. &#034It's *perfect.* You look adorable! Turn around, I want to look at your bottom some more.&#034 I turned, and wiggled at her. Lightening the situation, you understand. &#034It goes better with your jacket than these pants do,&#034 she said. Then, &#034Here, try this one, too.&#034 A gray skirt, slightly shorter, with pleats. Sort of purplish, under the gray. My jacket was an expensive camels' hair thing, that I'd bought when I got my appointment. This time, when I pulled the skirt on, she frowned. &#034It is sort of hideous with this jacket, isn't it?&#034 I commented. Strange to see two grays clash. They did, though. My taste was improving. &#034That's *awful,&#034* she said. &#034And it isn't even the right size.&#034 She frowned, but the grin kept slipping through. I recognized it. She was about to spring something on me. &#034And it was on sale, too. I'll have to exchange it today. Do you want to come with me?&#034 &#034You set this up!&#034 I accused her. &#034And no, I don't. You'll ask me if I want to try it on, like last time.&#034 We'd gone shopping once, and ended up having a terrible fight, because she insisted on holding things up to measure against me, and then had even asked me if I wanted to try one on! Loud enough for the cashier to hear, I was sure. I'd been so angry that I'd caught a bus home. Fortunately, ...
    according to the rules she had set up, she agreed that I didn't have to go trying dresses on in stores in order to see her again. It took some fast talking, though. That was at the beginning of March. &#034All right, then,&#034 she said, with a big smile. &#034But I'll need either your jacket or your pants to match colors with.&#034 I stamped my foot in anger. Looked down in confusion. I hadn't quite expected to make a womanish sound. In fact, I'd picked up that habit, of stamping my feet, putting my hands on my hips, and glaring, at Nancy's house. She chuckled. &#034You *know* I can't give you my jacket,&#034 I complained. She nodded, her eyes dancing. I suppose I should explain that. On what would have been our first anniversary, if we hadn't broken up -- Valentine's Day, that is -- we'd given each other remarkably similar presents. Well, she knew me pretty well, so she probably knew what I was going to give her. Flowers, candy, and sexy lingerie. In this case, a bra-panties-garterbelt set (in red and black, to match the dress she'd worn for The pizza, which I desperately wanted to see her in again). Maybe it was telepathy, since I could equally well have bought her a negligeee, or something, but she gave me a matching set -- same cut and everything, from the same store, only mine were pink and white. So we'd smelled the flowers, and then we made a romantic little arrangement with them both in the same vase, intertwined with one another, and stolen candy, giggling, from one ...
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