Neither she nor her husband seemed angry at my directly asked question-perhaps they knew that I could not help it.Okay...um.... I decided that I migh... as well get the clothing overwith, so I take the flat box wrapped in pink paper. I unwrapped it,plastering on a smile as I hear the camera operate. I opened the box andsaw that it was a series of feminine-cut shirts. At a glance I couldtell they were colorful, probably sheer enough to show off my bra. Thefirst one I lifted out, a. I felt that cooping them up in a bra was only asking for pain and I resolved to only wear them whenever necessary.---Every two weeks I burned through another bra. Just as the increasingly tight bras were cutting into my skin, the money required to buy new undergarments cut into my thin wallet. I had not asked for a single raise in allowance from my father, and my breasts with their leaking were far too unreliable to hold down a minimum wage job. I was struggling to get by, but I managed.One. More

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