Back at the weenie roast Vicky had learned that while Sonja had been born and raised up in Pontiac, outside of Detroit, as natural an American girl as...Vicky was, she sure didn't look it. Sonja had briefly told the story: her father Bob's step-parents had taken him out of a Japanese orphanage as an infant; his mother was Japanese and likely had been a prostitute, so his birth father could have been anything. Bob liked to think he was American Indian, but there was no proof. Sonja's birth mother. An outfit that said “Yes, of course I want to fuck you” but also “of course, if you’re not into that, this is just a hangout with friends.”It was a thin line, but finally Carlotta felt like she’d found the perfect item of clothing. A red sundress, with a strap over each shoulder. No bra, no panties, but the material was thick enough that her nipples wouldn’t be clearly visible.She just hoped Matilda would like it.Carlotta arrived at the bar more than twenty minutes early. As she sat there,. More

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