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Kathie Lee and her family left later that day for New York, so to complete their move.
All week, home designers came and went across the street, filling the home with costly furnishings.
She just had to stand there and let us see her briefly flash bronzed skin. I stood on the steps to check out her buttocks wrapped in a sheer white/floral skirt that blew about too.
It made a pup tent out the side of the flimsy shorts. Trying to keep her lovely eyes from looking down at the prominence became paramount.
The ample shaft bent 90-degress over my left thigh top. My pulsating dark c-o-c-k-h-e-a-d and green shorts became wet from dense, simmering p-r-e-c-u-m.
Quickly I nonchalantly cupped both hands off to the side of my bulging shorts, both knees weakened fast.
First popped out the 23-month-old slowly, as they do, then the busty Gifford. I couldn’t hide fast enough before hearing, "Hi neighbor." She stood with one hand waving.
I paused shyly then yelled sheepishly, "…H-h-hello." I quivered as both came over.
Mom sent me downstairs to grab an electrical extension cord. Gifford needed it for reasons not recalled because I was dumbfounded by her imposing appearance. It was a little breezy, and Kathie Lee’s cropped cotton shirt billowed up, exposing only the bottom underside curvature of her pert, tearddrop braless breast.