“Like, the loser has to do something for the winner”.īetween her smile, and the words coming out of her mouth I was suddenly very interested… and aroused. “Nooo!” she said with a smile and lightly slapped my shoulder. ![]() “We could each predict who’s going to win at the end of the episode, and the winner gets whatever the stakes are, that way the episode is more interesting for us” I gave her my puzzled look and asked “a bet? For what?” Suddenly, Brittany sits-up on her knees and turns to me all wide-eyed and asks “you wanna make a bet?!” She was wearing a tight fitting pink t-shirt that complimented her curves, and jeans that hugged her ass. We were watching some cooking competition show in her living room and we were both complaining about how bored we were. At the time of this story, we were both 23. Oma, in a generous mood, personally prepares a new uniform for Mister Detective.I had dated Brittany for about 4 years she was a cute girl, blonde, 5’10 and kept herself in pretty good shape. He grunted as he pulled the item from the box and let it unfurl with a heavy whup, the bottom hem low enough to strike the floor. The thing in the box was heavy, a bulky coat in some sort of brown, fleecy material. He had partly expected something white and strappy, an outfit to match Oma’s strange uniform.
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