.?"I turned around to face her, and told her to sit at the table dinner wasalmost ready. my non-chalant manner about what I was wearing put her back a...bit, but she sat at the table. It was perfectly set, and as she lookedaround her apartment, everything sparkled... for the first time in ages!"Mark, just what is going on here? Why are you wearing a dress for goodnesssake?" Well, I tossed my clothes in the washer this morning, and rather than goaround naked, I borrowed a dress. I had to wear. Her dark waves fall around her already sun-kissed shoulders, every inch of her exposed skin smooth and perfect. Chanel’s supple tits and ass are contained by a simple black bikini, the fabric frilling around the edges. She belongs on a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit cover as she sits next to me on the sand. “And that was a while ago,” she says, looking over at me. I snap my open mouth shut, trying not to gawk like a total fucking pervert. “So I don’t really remember much,” she finishes, smiling. I stood up and shrugged off my shirt. I hooked my thumbs into my skirt and pushed it down my thighs to the floor and tried to step out of it but stumbled a little, Grace steadied me. I was still a little dizzy with nerves and adrenaline. It didn't really feel like this was actually happening.Now I was stood there in just my underwear, a black matching pair of lace panties and a thin bralette. Grace stood in front of me and squeezed my shoulders, her touch was cool and firm, exactly as I had. Her dress is form fitting, with under wire that tucks at her upper stomach. Over her shoulders are two exposed baby blue bra straps. As she walks down the stairs, I take her by the hand and give it a kiss ala Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic and she gets flustered and giggles like a school girl while her parents smile at how happy their baby girl is. You look beautiful, Kelly, I tell her. Thank you. Youre very handsome yourself, she replies. She takes me outside and demands a lot of pictures from.