There was nothing special about her breasts. They weren't big or small, weren't specially firm nor hanging. But there was something very very sexy wit... them. They were so naturally, having nothing to do with breasts from a magazine or porn. No supernatural, neither by surgery nor by good genes. Her breasts where perfectly average and normal. Although she was a perfect beauty which could have been a professional model when she was dressed, undressing her revealed her natural side. She didn't. I heard a couple of the guys yell, ‘Hey, Marcy’ to me, and all that I could do was wave. Then it got worse: when I saw who the guys were, I knew that I’d gone out with two of them before. One of them, another guy named Dave, had the good sense not to say anything dumb while he was with the girl he’d spent last night with, but the other, a guy I only knew by his nickname, Crash – how the Hell do you get a nickname like that? – noticed when I did turn around that I’d quit shaving my pussy, and. After a few more lines, he had channeledhis inner feminine side as best he could and was now really beingtested to remember lines quickly. He oddly felt comfortable with everychallenge as they complimented him on his interpretation of the scenes,instead of his normal audition where he was used to more scrutiny.They eventually sent him back one more time for a last wardrobe changeexcept this time it would be a bit more challenging. A tight micro ministretch denim skirt and a red crop top would. And I watched them do it. When I went home, I imagined them doing it as I lay alone in my bedroom, dreaming up their shadows on the ceiling, closing my eyes and imagining them.I did everything these people expected of me in the most gentlemanly way possible. And most of all, I made them laugh by playing the fool, so somehow their men would love me. You see, my strategy was that these women would love me in the same way the men did, capitalizing on what they loved about their men by loving me as.
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