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Her name was Susan


Magickman

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I never go to weddings, because it might be contagious. Really. I have never been to a wedding. They are so depressing. And I don't want to be mistaken for the bride. Instead, I go to singles dances, where I usually meet married women. Last weekend, I got dressed up, and went to a big dance, with about 1,000 other people. Dressed up; denim mini, black tights, 5" stiletto boots, magenta manicure, two pair of silver hoop earrings, Cover Girl ice blue pink lip gloss. At he ballroom, the female bartender asked me if I was having more fun, now that I am sooooo blond. Among others, I danced with two sisters, neither of whom will ever sleep with me. (Don't I wish) I have long held an erotic fantasy about two sisters, but you don't need to know about that. Then I told the blond sister that for a quarter, she could feel my leg, half a buck for both legs. Honestly, she dug out fifty cents, for the two leg feel, and murmured "Oh! My! God!" while she did it. I asked her not to stop, but to no avail. Her name was Susan.

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