He could see by the numbers and the math, that Jomo was working out something about farming. Still, it wasn’t obvious what the numbers meant.Jomo ha... no idea of the significance of what he was doing. He had been raised as a subsistence farmer, growing enough to feed his family and have just enough left over to trade for other essential items that he couldn’t produce himself. Squatting there in the dirt, he was making the mental shift from subsistence farmer to production farmer. He was now. "It was designed by a French designer just for me. He was a client of mine." mom said. She wasn't crying anymore.The dress rested on my mother's big breasts. The built in bra cups held her tits high, rather than letting them fall to her belly as they otherwise would. Small, inch wide holes exposed her pierced nipples and cheap gold jewelery hung from each one."Larry bought those for me. He saved his weekly allowance to buy me those as wedding gift." mom said.The dress left mom's belly. More

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