It wasn't like a mannequin had warm flesh, soft skin and a will of its own. No, a mannequin had to stand there, in whatever pose it might be placed in...by the dresser. Now there was a nance and a fruit and... well, queer was an out of date word. Gay? He snorted. What did the dresser have to be happy about? AIDS?But the boy stood there staring and the manager wondered if he should go over and say something. That particular mannequin had been dressed today in a silken ecru blouse, with a short,. She giggled.“Your cock sure seems to like them. Would you like to see the back?” Umm, would I? Of course!“Yes please, please turn around and show me your gorgeous ass.” She did, and I wasn’t disappointed. The panties were cut across her cheeks, which had nice creases under them at the tops of her thighs. “Damn, that’s fantastic, I’ve seen and admired your ass plenty of times in shorts or leggings, masturbated at the thought of your ass, but it’s even prettier than I imagined.”“Thanks, I. More

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