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Gaining momentum.

Gaining momentum, Mary rejoiced at the outcome that had been intentional.

she clapped her too big hands and swirled in a delightful careless fashion. Wobbling on her patient electric blue shoes she strutted peacock like across the dance hall, men eyeing her rakishly.
To tightly fitting her dress strained, the fabric shimmering under the glaring disco lights. The taffeta terracotta skirts raised just slightly to high, giving a salacious glimpse of stockinged big shapely legs, firm and bulging in muscle. The nets aiding the swaying of those skirts to reveal if the eye strained enough the swell beginning of butux.

Marys mother had frowned down upon the outfit and the shoes. But, tied as she was, gagged and bound to the chair, she could do nothing more than grunt her obvious disapproval.
too long had Mary lived under the whimsical shadow of her mother, always bleating on about good catholic virtues and morals. ''you'll need to be married soon' she'd snipe in her scathing tones ''i want grandsons, big strong strapping grandsons to make up for the failure you are''.
Belt lashes still scarred and marred Mary's hairy back from when she'd been caught wearing her best dress at the wrong occasion. Her mother had locked her in the house since that day.

Well, thought Mary smugly and excitedly, not tonight. Tonight i am free to explore and peruse lust at my disposal.

Mary contemplated the array of men dotted enticingly around the room, lined up like fat juicy lobsters waiting to be devoured. She was waiting to be devoured, waiting to be deflowered, gorged on, swallowed whole till no morsel was left. Licked, eaten and suckled upon.

Just the thought made her raise.

All the while her mother waited at home for her, thinking ''oh lord, Mark what have you done''.

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