#168356 - Whyte was a man somewhere in his forties, I believed. I felt a pleasurable tingling; so instead of throwing the spade I threw a pleasant smile and a little wave of hand at the old guy who continued on his way, shaking his head in a manner that suggested he was regretting his age and longing for younger days. I was dressed in a short armless pink blouse that hugged my bare ‘A’ cup breasts and left a few inches of my smooth chocolate tummy outside.
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