Made Maryanne – Part 2Made Maryanne – Part 2

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When I woke up the following morning, I immediately became aware of the situation. It was difficult not to notice the pretty white cotton and lace nor the fact that I was wearing it. I quickly recalled the events of the previous night, feeling ashamed at having been caught masturbating. I knew that Beatrice somehow wanted to make a point by telling me to wear her nightdress, but I had no clue why. I rolled over to see her watching me. She was wide awake, looking as beautiful as ever with her light green eyes and long blonde hair, but her pretty mouth wasn’t smiling. Instead, she had that same determined look like the previous night. “You do know why you’re wearing that, kaçak iddaa don’t you?” she asked solemnly. “Not really,” I answered honestly, “Something to do with last night?” “Everything to do with last night.” “I’m sorry.” “Are you a sissy boy?” “No!” “I think you are a sissy boy, John. I think you like to get off while wearing girls’ clothing.” “No…” I started to say, trying to think of an appropriate excuse. “Somebody enjoys it,” she said, smiling at last and holding my swollen shaft through the cotton. She got up on her knees and lifted the nightdress, straddled me and pushed the tip of my cock inside her pussy. I lay there watching her in awe while she bounced kaçak bahis around on my dick, rodeo style. Her beautiful blonde hair flicked rhythmically through the air as she ground me. I grabbed hold of her buttocks and pulled down hard, trying to force as much of my manhood as I possibly could inside her. I felt bigger than ever. Within moments I felt the stream of her cum juices flowing over my groin. She let out a scream, her tummy expanding and contracting in a spasm as she spent herself on my pole. She pulled away and lay down on her side with her back to me. I spooned up against her, my throbbing shaft pressing between her buttocks. I know better than to illegal bahis try to penetrate her, so instead I just held her tightly until we both fell asleep. I loved the smell and feel of her hair brushing against my face, and the warmth of her soft skin pressed gently against me. — “Get out of that thing,” said Beatrice, glaring down at me. I looked up to see Beatrice standing over me. She was clearly agitated. Once again I quickly realized that I was wearing her nightdress and immediately understood that she wasn’t happy about it. I sat up and pulled it over my head, tossing it aside on the bed. — Later in the week, we were having dinner at a local Italian restaurant when Beatrice broached the topic once again. “I spoke to Jennie about you,” she said. “What about me?” I answered. I knew what she meant. It had been like an elephant in the room, ever since she’d caught me.

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