Or worse, depending on how you look at it... when I sat down and found Cassie wearing a man’s long-sleeved shirt that was unbuttoned from top to bot...om. About a foot of creamy unblemished skin was exposed, including maybe a third of the inside slopes of her breasts.“Hi,” she said. Somehow she managed, in that outfit, to sound as shy as shy could be.“You make a habit of looking nice, I see,” I said.Her smile finished the job that the two of them had started and my prick stuck straight out from. I’d discovered that the longer we lived The Dream, the more she wanted to explore its possibilities. Her commitment and drive regarding this one goal was partly where my love for her resided. In other words, I loved her more for becoming my cum bucket whore slave than if she’d remained simply Karen - we wanted our family and friends to understand this as well.We wouldn’t have bothered to have had a family meeting just to inform the children that their mom had decided on a new career. That would. More

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