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DeeZire
Guest
Plunging neckline, stiff fabric gathered below the breasts, no bra. She’s dancing, I’m playing keyboards, tucked behind the PA speaker where I can watch without being obvious about it. I’m waiting patiently, knowing my peek-a-boo moment is inevitable. Sure enough, during the first chorus of “Brown Eyed Girl” her top billows out for a second, affording me the perfect angle for a fleeting glimpse. Her tit (the right one) is about halfway between a champagne glass and a goblet, bottom heavy, the nipple aimed slightly upwards.
I love my job!
ETA: It was a cotton-ish cocktail dress, not a wedding dress, for an outdoor thing.
I love my job!
ETA: It was a cotton-ish cocktail dress, not a wedding dress, for an outdoor thing.
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