Sensational Swimwear It s a wonderful TG life
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It's A Wonderful LifeChapter 5: You Wear It Well free porn video
“Where are we now?”
“You mean when are we”
“You are pissing me off, for a guardian angel, you are fucking annoying”
“I get that a lot”
“Well?”
“? Oh, yeah, well. This, my dear man, is 1961. The year you met and married Maggie, your dear wife”
“Dear, as in expensive?”
“Ha. That only deserves one ha, not two”
There she was, sashaying down the street. She was a looker, no doubt about it. She was stunning. She was smiling. She’d just been offered a modelling job. She couldn’t wait to tell her new boyfriend. He’d be really pleased for her, he was so lovely, so supportive, so encouraging. She’d showed him some of the underwear she’d had to model for the trial shoot. They’d let her keep it after.
His eyes were on stalks. Oh, she saw, it wasn’t only his eyes that were stalks. Between his legs there was another sprouting. Well, good. If he was ‘the one’ it would be be good if she could turn him on like this. But, to be honest, in what she was wearing (or wasn’t wearing), you’d have to be brain dead not to get an erection.
He said she looked brilliant. In his mind, he was convinced that no girl from small town America would get a job modelling. It would be like ... well like Liverpool producing a hit group, or a black man being President. Maybe one day, but not in this decade.
“I got it!”
“Hmmm, what’s that honey?” she kissed him, hard and long. She could feel his groin reacting.
“I got it! The shoot! I got it! They want me to model more; nightwear I think. Isn’t that great!”
“Oh, honey that is wonderful!” Where will they shoot the pictures?”
“In Chicago, where their factory is. They’ll take me and another girl round the Lakes too for outside shots; maybe swim wear”
“Superb.”
“I’ll be away a few weeks. Will that be okay? Only ... I won’t go if you’ll miss me too much. I; well I wouldn’t want to mess ‘us’ up”
Max interjected “Remember? That’s where this story changes. You implied that you’d miss her too much, that she was too important to you. And when you’d sown the doubts, you suggested that maybe exposing her body in underwear shots would mark her out for low quality shoots, maybe she should keep herself for the real success of haute couteur – is that what it’s called? Don’t get a lot of that in my biker circles”
“I was jealous, wasn’t I? She was getting out of the town. I was stuck.”
“At least you can admit that now. And you were doing that possessive thing of not wanting men looking at her in the same underwear that she wore to give you your first handjob”
“How did you know ... oh, you read my mind”
“No. It’s in the file. ‘Maggie’s first hand job for George. Dressed in silk underwear and stockings, in his bedroom when his parents were out’ It’s all there”
George reddened. The George they were watching wasn’t sure either, but he was a little more supportive. There was a blur.
Vogue – cover page - ‘Maggie Malone – the girl next door look. If the girl next door is stunning’
And she was. It was Maggie, she was naked, forty now, and naked on the front of Vogue. Heavily pregnant and sitting sideways, looking across at the camera, holding her bump and letting her breasts show. They were huge. Ready to feed the baby. Inside ‘Why Maggie isn’t ashamed to show her boobs, “They are for feeding the baby first, for lusting after later. Though George can lust after them any time he wants” she jokes’.
George, the small town businessman who is now also her manager, looks after the two other children and is proud of his model wife. She doesn’t model as much now, but she still shows how mothers and older women can look stunning. People like her, she talks to people in Walmart or Wallgreens, she picks up sicky children, she visits the two schools in the town and promotes education “Okay, look, I know I’m hugely successful, mega-rich, and people say I’m beautiful” she says to the class of fifteen and sixteen year old girls who all think they want to be models “but am I happy?” she lets the question hang for a few seconds “Well shoot! Of course I am!” All the girls laugh and the teachers too. “No point in pretending I’m not; you wouldn’t believe it. But for every one who is lucky – and it is luck, not looks, not hard work, it’s luck that got me here – there are hundreds who don’t. Sooo go to college. Get your medical degree, or your hairdressing diploma. It doesn’t matter what it is. Have a fall back position for if it doesn’t work out. You all look fantastic! Now, unless this small town is about to supply the whole world with models, you aren’t all going to get onto Vogue, or Cosmo, or even National Enquirer [another laugh]. So enjoy looking good for its own sake. And try the beauty queen contests and the photo shoots, but” she walks to a blonde in the front row with a bra that pulls her tits up under her chin “use this too” she taps the girl’s head “as well as these” she taps the girl’s bust. “It’s all good.” The intelligent teachers are delighted; it’s a sensible talk from the most successful person from their town. She isn’t saying ‘you can all do what I do’, but she’s not saying ‘give up’. The less intelligent teachers think she should have dwelt on the down sides, but that wouldn’t have convinced anyone.
Ofelia
- 16.02.2022
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