"So, I think you should do it, right here at the table," Lissa commanded, with a triumphant tone."With Jason sitting right here?" Denise asked, whethe...r with real or feigned panic, I couldn't quite tell. Perhaps a cognitively dissonant combination of both?Lissa's grin widened. "Of course, mom. He can sit across from you, like where I am ... he won't see anything..."Denise glanced, involuntarily, at her own lap, and across at her daughter. Swallowed, slightly nervously. I thought, after what. Yes, I was eavesdropping. Bite me!"Why does it matter if you like it or not? The only thing that matters is that he likes it." my sister remarked teasingly. Her question had my interest piqued. It's a question that I had never thought of asking myself before. Why does she hate me so much?"I didn't say it matters to me." Molly retorted and I could almost hear her blushing, if that's even possible."Is that so?" my sister giggled. "I think the reason you hate him is because he's ignoring you.". Nadine, my love,as far back as I can remember I have had an urge to dress in girl's thenwomen's clothing. When I was very young I satisfied that urge whenever Ivisited my Great Aunt Gen. Her girls were grown and out of the house bythe time I was old enough to have known them, but Aunt Gen, God blessher soul, was a pack rat that never threw anything away. Most items weresent to the loft out in the barn but her girls' clothes were stored inthe attic. I had available to me an entire lifetime of. A pretty, extremely weepy soldier. Knees. I ordered (Id planned to say on your knees femboi or something badass like that but, at this point I was so fucking excited I could barely hold still). He almost immediatly dropped to his knees for me, but then he paused, and fought with himself, and then he lost, and then dropped to his knees. It was actually hotter than if he had just dropped without thinking about it. He was still a little too tall down there, the top of his head just above by belt.