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Michele smiled as she remembered her and her Bettys partying the nightaway here on that evening so long ago. She saddened briefly as sheremembered Spike Jones spoiling the evening by throwing a drink over her.She turned around and walked carefully down the rickety staircase."Hey lady! What you doing up there?" the fat Greek man in a filthy apronasked as she came out the entrance."Just remembering old times," she smiled at him.The man looked at the fresh-faced pretty woman and smiled. She lookedlike a hippy but there was something about her; something not quiteright.Michele was used to that look by now and shrugged it off."Well you should have asked first. That's my place you know," the manadmonished her but smiled."Really? I wouldn't fess up to owning that dump but never mind; I'll buya souvlaki from you how's that?" Michele grinned."Hey a pretty girl like you? I'm buying you the souvlaki," the vendorlaughed and Michele laughed with him.Two weeks later a hippy looking young man. Finally, I decided to go inside the house and knocked on the door. My mom wasn’t expecting me. She might have thought that my sister came early and I’m sure she wouldn’t have opened the door if she knew it was me.She was in attire, which she would definitely don’t want me to see. I was completely blown out of proportions when I looked at her attire as she opened the door. She, too, was shocked to see me as she wasn’t expecting me. She opened the door.As I was entering, she immediately rushed to the washroom. I silently went to my room as I was dumbstruck. My mom was wearing a tan (skin) color legging and a red-colored round-collared top (kurta) of my sister, which barely covered her ass.She had sweat all over her face, neck, and around the collar of the red top. The kurta was an old one and that too it was my sister’s, so it was tight enough. I could see my mom’s bra line, and her boobs are protruding out of it, trying for a release.Because of sweat all over her face and the chest, I.
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"Young? I'm forty-five, young lady, and rarely told I'm young. Those to whom forty-five seems young seem never to compliment someone on their youth."It was Lorraine's turn to raise a brow. "You deny your youth, and assert mine? Perhaps you are addled after all. It was my thirty-ninth birthday when I lost my husband, my legs, and my arm to that drunken bastard, and that was a year ago and more." As Lorraine had calmed, her English had improved as well; her accent wasn't nearly so opaque now.Steve's skin crawled, then he controlled himself, and spoke. "They you have regained your youth as well as your limbs; I would place your age at twenty, at most, and perhaps younger. From your words, I have also lost years of age."Steve had half-forgotten the woman lying on the bed; her sobs had quieted when they sat down beside her, and she suddenly spoke to them, in a questioning tone. He still didn't speak German, so he sat quietly as Lorraine and the young woman conversed briefly. Lorraine lay.

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