Dad continued: "She had to give the baby up for adoption. Her parents wouldn't let her keep it."Marie moved her hand reflexively to her stomach, as if...to protect her unborn child.My Dad quickly spoke: "But we won't force you to do that, Marie. This isn't the 60's."No, it was the 80's: blow-dried hair, parachute pants, and Duran Duran.We thanked Dad and talked about it some more between the two of us. Marie suggested we look through birth records at City Hall to see if our older sibling could be. “Ooooh!” I moan. “Do you want to touch my big, ripe, aching, sensitive breasts?” They are sensitive. The nipples swell as pleasure radiates out through my body.I giggle again. “Do you want to know a secret?” I ask. “If you touch my breasts, I won’t be able to control myself.” It’s no secret to John, of course, that I am very susceptible to mammary stimulation, but he’ll take it as all part of the roleplay.Slowly I undo the rest of the buttons, working my way upwards. I open the dress up to. More

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