Made To Measure
by Jack Kendle
I was going through my papers the other day and came across an old exercise book of mine from my childhood. As I read, the memories came flooding back.
It was a special day for me yesterday. For my thirteenth birthday my father took me to his tailor in London to be measured up for my first suit.
I love my Daddy. He’s tall and strong and always smells nice. We do everything together. He taught me to swim and fish and ride and soon he says he will teach me to shoot. We live in a big house in the country. Mummy died when I was six. Daddy explained it all to me a couple of years ago. Mummy died trying to give birth to what would have been my younger brother, but he died too. Daddy said he was very sad, but that he had me which made things easier to bear.
He didn’t send me away to school, he said he wanted me close by him while I was growing up, so he hired a tutor, Gordon, who teaches me at home. Gordon’s nice too. He’s a bit like a big brother, though Daddy says I have to respect my elders. Gordon’s a bit strict sometimes, but he can be fun too. He makes lessons fun and is teaching me to wrestle as well as the trumpet.
Anyway, I am thirteen now and Daddy said it was time for a young gentleman to have his first made-to-measure suits. He said I’ll need one for formal occasions like Church and when we visit great-aunt Matilda and another one for when we go shooting and then another one for when Daddy has his visitors. I’d also have shirts made as well as new shoes.
So we went to London to visit his tailor. Daddy told me that his tailor also made his father’s suits and that now it was my turn. He told me that when he was my age, his Daddy, that’s my Grandpa Alwyn, who’s dead now, took him on his first visit to his tailor. Daddy always looks so smart in his clothes, I can’t wait to be as smart as him.
We did the shirts this morning and got my feet measured for shoes. Daddy took me to a nice restaurant for lunch. He called it his club. He told me that when I grew up I would also be a member of the same club. It was very old place, with very old gentlemen who all said ‘hello’ to Daddy and asked him if I were his son. Daddy said ‘yes’ and they all looked at me and said how handsome I was and that I would ‘break a few hearts’ when I got older. I didn’t know what they meant, but Daddy said he would explain it later. I was very careful to be on my best behaviour and shook hands with all the old gentlemen. Some of them patted me on the head and one or two even stroked my cheek. Daddy looked very pleased. I could tell he was proud of me. I was glad. I wanted my Daddy to be very proud of me. I would do anything for him.
“Now, let’s be off to Allcock and Seaman for your suits,” said Daddy after lunch. It was only a short walk to the tailor’s, which was in a house almost as old as the club we had just come from; all old panelling on the walls and very quiet, like in church. There were shelves from floor to ceiling, full of rolls of cloth and tailor’s dummies dotted here and there. At the glass-topped counter were drawers full of ties in all shades and patterns as well as underwear and socks. The dark blue carpet was very soft and the lighting subdued. A young man, I suppose he was about the same age as Gordon, came over to Daddy and greeted him very politely.
“This is my son, George,” said Daddy and I shook hands with the man. He looked me up and down and said to my father what a good-looking young man I was. I felt myself blushing a bit. Daddy just smiled and agreed.
“I’ll call Old Mr Allcock,” said the young man and disappeared through a curtain at the back of the shop.
“Old Allcock measured me for my first suit,” said Daddy as we waited, “though he wasn’t called ‘Old’ then. He was ‘Young Mr Allcock, then.” He looked a bit sad for a moment, I thought.
Presently an old man with a lot of white hair and a very pink face came through the curtain.
“Ah, Lord Symington! Always a pleasure, my lord!”
Daddy shook the old man’s hand and introduced me. I felt the old man’s eyes, which were very blue and not at all like the eyes of an old man at all, roam over me. It was as if he was looking through me, not at me. He smiled and took my hand. His hand was cool and very thin. The wrinkled skin reminded me of my pet lizard, Toby.
“You’re a good-looking specimen!” said the old man, smiling at me. He kept hold of my hand and with the other tilted my head slightly upwards.
“Just the same as you were, my lord,” he said to my father. He paused and then added in a softer voice, “my, how time flies!”
“Yes, it does,” agreed my father. “I remember my first time here like it was yesterday.” The old man looked at him and smiled. “So do I, my lord. That was a very special occasion, was it not?” They both laughed.
“Who is your new assistant?” my father asked, indicating the young man who had come back into the shop and was busy arranging some bolts of material on a large table at the back of the room.
“That’s my nephew, my brother’s boy, Francis Allcock. He’s finishing his apprenticeship and will carry on the firm. Young Seaman’s away at the moment, but he’ll be back here any minute. At least we can carry on for another generation, though it will probably be the last.” He looked a bit sad for a moment and then said, briskly. “But let’s not dwell on that shall we? We need to kit you out, young man!” All this time he had been holding my hand in his and absent-mindedly stroking my cheek with his thumb. He released my hand and showed us through the curtain to another room which had mirrors on three of the walls, plus a large free-standing mirror in the centre of the room and a large table with bolts of cloth arranged on it.
“I took the liberty, my lord, of selecting some materials in advance, knowing your taste. Perhaps we might find something suitable here?”
“You know my preferences,” replied my Daddy and I’m sure he winked at old Allcock, though I couldn’t be sure. At any rate, both men were smiling.
“Come along young man, let’s see what we can find,” said Allcock as he ushered me to the table with a slight pressure at the small of my back.
This was all so new, I had no idea at all what to choose. I looked at Daddy and asked him to choose.
“Well, you’ll need a sober dark suit for church and receptions,” he said. Allcock pulled a couple of rolls out and showed them. One black, the other charcoal grey. I chose the latter. It had a soft feel to it.
“A very good choice, if I may say so sir,” said the old tailor. “Best quality cashmere. It’ll suit you very well. Go with your blond hair and blue eyes.” He looked appraisingly at me. “You have your father’s exquisite taste, young man!” He smiled at me and I blushed again. I felt Daddy’s hand on my head as he ruffled my hair. I was pleased. It felt as if I had passed some sort of test.
We spent the next half-hour or so choosing more materials for the various outfits Daddy said I would need.
“Now we need to measure you up.” Old Allcock produced a tape-measure and the young assistant, Francis, came through the curtain, a worn black leather notebook in one hand and a tray with coffee and brandy in the other. Daddy was shown to a seat with his coffee and brandy. Old Mr Allcock guided me towards the large freestanding mirror.
“If sir would be so kind as to remove his clothing, then we can begin to measure him up,” he said with a kind smile. I hadn’t expected to have to undress. I looked over at Daddy, who smiled and nodded encouragingly.
“We have to get the exact measurements, sir, otherwise your clothes won’t fit you as well as they should and our reputation will be in ruins!” joked the old man. Young Francis came over to me and I handed him my clothes as I slowly removed them. I felt a little strange getting undressed in front of these two perfect strangers. Of course I had undressed often with Daddy and also with Gordon, when we went swimming or wrestled and when I went for my bath before bed so I didn’t mind too much. In fact it was rather fun. Daddy had such a terrific body, lots of muscles and hairy bits under his arms and on his tummy and round his winkle, which was huge! Gordon told me that it wasn’t called a winkle on a man, only on little boys. He said I should say ‘dick’ or ‘prick.’ I remember I laughed a lot because the two words rhymed and I spent the day making up poems with the two words. Gordon’s dick was long and thin and sometimes got hard and straight, particularly when we wrestled and when he soaped my back for me in the bath. My wink… er dick also got longer and harder more often recently. It was often like that at bedtime and I enjoyed pulling it until I felt all tingly.
I pulled off my shoes and socks and took my trousers down. I could feel my dick was slightly hard, but it didn’t show too much behind my white slimline briefs. Daddy said I should wear those as it would be easier to measure me.
I looked over at Daddy. He sat crosslegged in the chair, smiling at me.
Francis scooped up my trousers and as he did so, his head accidentally brushed against my dick. I don’t think he noticed, anyway, he didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure whether or not I had to remove my underpants. Old Allcock saw me hesitate.
“That’s fine, young man. You may keep them on,” he said, adding more quietly, “for now.”
All three men in the room were looking at me. It was a bit strange at first, but I saw that they were smiling. Old Allcock was first to speak: “A very fine specimen indeed!” He nodded his head approvingly. Francis had got up and placed my clothes neatly on a table after folding them. He too was staring at me. I noticed a bulge in his trousers, he must have a hard dick, like Gordon did sometimes. Despite the warmth in the room I felt goosebumps all over my body and my balls drew themselves up close to my body. I shivered slightly.
“Poor lad is cold!” said the old man. He came closer and with his dry hands chafed my back and rubbed my tummy, which made me giggle. I looked over at Daddy. He was smiling encouragingly at me. “Don’t worry, son. You’ll get used to it!” He winked at me. If Daddy said not to worry, then I knew everything would be alright. I relaxed and let old Allcock continue his rubbing. I felt my dick getting slightly harder and as I relaxed, my balls dropped back down in their sac.
“No, let’s get measuring!” siad the old tailor. “Ready Francis?”
The younger man nodded and opened his battered notebook, found he right page and prepared to write down the numbers old Allcock began calling to him as he ran the tape-measure across my back from shoulder to shoulder.
I found it was nice having the old man’s hands on my youthful body. Of course, Daddy and Gordon often stroked me, but this was different. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was about five feet tall, Daddy said he thought I would be as tall as he was, I just needed a ‘growth spurt’ as he called it. I have blond hair and blue eyes, like my Daddy and everyone says I’m handsome. My nose is slightly turned up and my eyelashes are very long. Daddy sometimes says I look like a cherub. I go swimming a lot so I don’t have any puppy fat, in fact sometimes I think I’m a bit thin, but Daddy says I’ll fill out when I get more muscles from my wrestling. My legs are very long and I think my feet are a bit big, but Daddy says things will get into proportion when I finish puberty, whatever that is. He said that big feet meant a big dick!
My mind went back to what happened next, it must have been a month or so ago.
He asked me to show him my dick, which I did, of course. Daddy said it was quite a big one for someone my age and we spent a bit of time measuring it. Of course I got all hard while Daddy was trying to measure my dick. He said it was six inches hard, which was most respectable. “And you have some hairs there, son.” I knew, of course. They had begun to appear a few weeks ago. There weren’t very many and they were very blond, you’d hardly notice them unless you got really close. I still didn’t have any hairs under my arms though. Daddy stroked my dick a few times and asked me if I liked the feeling. I did, and told him so. I told him that I enjoyed what he was doing.
“Do you play with it a lot?” He asked me.
“I don’t know what a lot is,” I replied. “I suppose I play with it a few times a day and when I go to bed, of course and sometimes after wrestling with Gordon.”
“Does Gordon play with it as well?” asked Daddy. I was worried that Daddy would be cross if I told him, so I didn’t say anything, but I felt myself going red.
“It’s all right, son,” said my Daddy hugging me tight, whilst with the other hand he still stroked my dick. “Daddy’s not cross at all. Does Gordon touch you ‘down there’?”
“And, do you like it?”
Again, I nodded.
“Do you touch him?”
“Once,” I replied.
“And did you like it?”
“Yes. He liked it too!”
“I’m sure he did!”
Then Daddy suddenly knelt in front of me and put his mouth right over my dick and sucked it. I felt my knees turn to jelly and goosebumps all over my body. I had to lean on Daddy so that I wouldn’t fall over. My dick went even further into his mouth. It was wet and warm and felt fantastic! Daddy sucked and sucked until I felt all shaky then it felt I was having an electric shock in my dick and belly-button and all over. It was so strange, but at the same time such a brilliant feeling. Much better than when I stroked myself. I found myself shaking all over then something very strange happened.
“Daddy!” I managed to croak. “Daddy! Stop! I think I’m going to pee! Daddy! Daddy STOP!!” But Daddy didn’t stop sucking my dick. If anything he sucked harder and pushed his mouth as far as he could down my dick. I felt his hot breath from his nose on my skin. I couldn’t help myself. I felt a great jolt and then my dick seemed to spurt something out, right down Daddy’s throat. Then my knees gave way completely and I cried out loud as I fell on top of Daddy. He held me up as I tried to get my breath back.
“Sorry Daddy! I’m so, so sorry!” I finally said, ashamed at myself for peeing into Daddy’s mouth. Daddy let my dick go and looked up at me. He put a finger to my lips and looked at me so kindly, I felt like crying. In fact, there were tears running down my cheeks.
“Hush, Georgie,” said Daddy, as he wiped away the tears, “Don’t apologise. You did nothing wrong!”
“But Daddy, I…I…”
“You didn’t pee in my mouth, George.”
“But then…?” I was confused. “What came out of my winkle?”
“That,” said Daddy, as he stroked my dick, “is what we call semen, or cum.” He held up a finger to show me what had trickled out while he was stroking me. It was slightly white and looked thicker than pee. Daddy held his finger to me nose. It smelt different from pee, a bit like chlorene in the swimming-pool.
“Taste it,” said Daddy, bringing his finger closer to my mouth. I thought it was a bit gross to taste something that had come out of my peehole, but Daddy went on: “Go on, Georgie. It’s alright. It doesn’t taste nasty at all.” If Daddy said something was alright, then it had to be. I trusted him totally. Gingerly I licked his finger.
“It doesn’t really taste of anything,” I said. “Perhaps a bit salty and sweet at the same time. But it’s not a nasty taste at all!” I was surprised.
“No, George, it’s a lovely taste and that was the first time that something came out of your dick that isn’t pee?”
“Yes, Daddy.” I paused, thinking hard. “Does that mean I’m a man now?”
Daddy chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it does, George. And soon you’ll be making lots more of it and when you cum you’ll feel fantastic.”
“It was awesome now, Daddy!” I hugged him tightly. I love my Daddy and he loves me.
Standing in the tailor’s, being measured, I recalled that day and realised my dick was getting very hard indeed. Old Mr. Allcock was still measuring and calling out numbers to Francis, who was looking at the bulge in my underwear. My dick felt so hard I thought it would burst. Then Mr Allcock, on his knees in front of me began to run the tape measure up my leg, getting closer and closer to my hard dick. I was so embarrassed. There was no way he wouldn’t notice it pushing against the stretched material of my tight-fitting white briefs. I felt his cool hand getting closer and closer to my dick and balls. Suddenly he stopped and looked up at me and asked, “And which side does sir dress?”
I had no idea what he meant. I looked helplessly at Daddy. He smiled at me and then said, “I’m not sure George understands the question, Mr Allcock.”
“Oh, pardon me, sir,” replied the older man. He let the tape measure drop to the floor. “It means, which side does sir feel comfortable in trousers?”
I still hadn’t a clue what he was talking about. Again, I looked at Daddy to help me out.
“I think he might need a practical demonstration,” said my Daddy to the two men.
Old Mr. Allcock nodded. He looked up at me. “If sir would be so good as to remove sir’s underwear, I will be able to show sir what I mean.”
I was mortified. I had a raging hardon, which he must have noticed. How could I take my pants down? The old man smiled gently at me as he stroked my thigh.
“It’s perfectly alright, sir. Most natural thing in the world to get an erection under these circumstances. Don’t be embarrassed. We’re all men of the world here, there’s nothing we haven’t seen before!” He smiled again, encouragingly.
There was nothing for it. I had to pull down my briefs, but if Daddy said it was alright, then it must be alright. I trust my Daddy completely. Old Mr Allcock stood up and motioned Francis over.
“Over to you, Francis,” he said. Francis looked very happy indeed.
“Would you like a hand, sir?” asked the younger man. I felt my dick leaking into my briefs, something which had started to happen more often when my dick got hard. I dropped my hands to my sides and looked over at Daddy. He nodded slightly, still smiling.
“Yes, please.” I said in a soft voice, hardly above a whisper. Francis hooked his thumbs into the waistband of my briefs and began to tug, very gently. I felt the tight fabric slipping over my very hard dick and the cool air on the head which was peeping out from beneath my foreskin. There was a lot of clear stuff coming out of my piss-slit.
I heard Francis’ breathing as he stared hard at my dick as it slowly revealed itself as he tugged my briefs very slowly over my dick, down my hips, over my butt and on, down to the floor. Almost in a trance, I stepped out of the underclothes where they lay pooled at my feet. I saw my dick as it stood proudly erect, so, so hard. It curved slightly towards my tummy and I could see and feel it pulsating at the same speed as my heart. There was even more stuff leaking out of it, down the shaft, where the veins stood out, blue and thick. My dick was getting quite wet and the liquid kept oozing out, now over my balls and down in long strands, to the rich blue carpet.
Daddy was smiling still and Francis, still on his knees in front of me moved a little closer. I looked over the top of his head at my reflection in the mirror. From here, my dick looked even bigger than usual, I thought. It was so hard now, it was almost hurting, but still a nice kind of pain. Francis ran a hand up and down my leg, from my toes almost to where my legs joined, but he didn’t touch my dick or balls. I wondered what it would feel like if he did. By now, I really wanted him to touch me there. I began to move my hands towards my dick, but Francis gently but firmly pushed them back and held me by the wrists. His head was getting closer and closer to my leaking, pulsing dick. My legs felt weak, I thought I might fall over.
It was then I felt old Mr Allcock’s hands on my back, steadying me. One hand gently moved down to my butt and rested there, gently stroking. I loved the feeling of these two men holding and stroking me, but I ached desperately to touch my dick or have it touched. I found I was groaning and babbling something, breathing very fast. In the mirror I saw the two men engrossed with my body, as I stood between them, face flushed, a slight sweat on my upper lip, eyes shining brightly. As I looked, the flush moved down my neck and on to my upper chest, sharply contrasting with my pale skin.
Francis’ head was moving closer and closer to my dick. He was watching it, almost mesmerised, like a cobra. Now I could feel his warm breath on my shaft and then, almost without warning, Francis began to lick the oozing liquid from my balls. I almost jumped out of my skin at the touch; his hot breath and warm, wet tongue licking my balls was one of the most awesome feelings I had ever felt. My butt was still being stroked by old Allcock and now and again, I felt it when a finger ran up and down my crack, pushing ever so gently at my butthole. Each time he touched it, I felt a jolt go through my body.
By now, Francis’ tongue was working its way up my shaft. I couldn’t believe that I could get any harder, but if anything I did. The head of my dick was now fully clear of my foreskin, flared and shiny, bright red and the liquid was now almost gushing out. I was in heaven. Francis tongue reached my dickhead and began to gently lick. My heart was pounding so fast, I thought it might burst. I could feel that I was getting so close, so close… I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop the eruption when it came. I didn’t want to stop it. I wanted it to happen and happen NOW!
It was then that Francis moved his head away, still holding my arms against my sides. I wanted to shout at him to come back again, take my dick in his mouth and make me cum, but I had no voice. I felt as if I were a fish out of water, gasping for breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my Daddy, looking on. He had taken his dick out of his trousers and was gently stroking along it’s enormous length. Old Allcock pushed a finger against by butthole and I felt it as it went in, only a little way, but it was such a surprise. My cock jerked and got straighter and harder. I looked down at Francis.
“Please…pl..” I tried to speak, but couldn’t. Francis, smiling, nodded slightly and brought his mouth back to my dick. And this time, he took it into his mouth, sucking and swirling with his tongue.
I had no self-control left. I felt my knees buckle at the same time as old Allcock’s finger went even further up my arse.
Then, suddenly, with no warning at all, I felt my cock harden one more time, my knees all but gave way and I began to cum – again and again, spurt after spurt coursed through the length of my dick, like molten lava and into Francis’ mouth. I saw his eyes open in surprise, then he sucked even harder pulling all the cum from me. Somewhere I heard a shout. I threw my head back and gave in to the sensations. Allcock’s finger had found a place in my arsehole which he pushed against and my dick jerked and sprayed in Francis’ mouth. I saw some of my cum leaking out of the sides of his mouth. I thought it would never end, that I would cum and cum for ever, but gradually, the spurts grew less forceful and slowed.
Francis was breathing hard through his nose, his eyes watering, cheeks red. My legs totally gave way beneath me and were it not for old Mr Allcock’s arm about my waist, I would have collapsed on top of Francis.
The sweat was dripping off my face on to Francis’ head and the floor. He slowly let my dick go from his mouth until it hung free again, softening, but still leaking drops of cum, both on to him and then on to the floor. I closed my eyes, feeling utterly spent but so deeply content. It had been the most intense experience of my life until then, even more so than when I had cum for the first time into Daddy’s mouth. He had been right. Now I had cum and cum – at least six or seven strong spurts and then a few more. I couldn’t believe I had so much cum in me.
I stayed where I was, unable and unwilling to move, Allcock’s arm about my waist, his other hand now resting again on my bum cheeks. I felt like a rag doll, or a puppet whose strings had been cut, hanging down over the still kneeling figure of Francis. He had by now released my hands and was gently stroking my inner thighs. My breathing slowly returned to normal and I could focus my eyes again. I heard a low murmur. It was Daddy, in his chair. He still had his dick out and I could see he had cum all over his hand and on to his trousers. He had a smile on his face and winked at me, mouthing “I love you!”
“I love you too, Daddy,” I replied, my voice still a bit croaky.
Francis got to his feet and found me a chair and old Allcock eased me down on to the soft leather. I saw Francis still had a bulge in his trousers, surely he needed to cum too? As if reading my mind, old Allcock came round to the younger man and after opning the fly at the front of Francis’ trousers, took out the younger man’s dick and then, standing to the side, giving me an excellent view, gently stroked him until, with a grunt, Francis’ dick spurted several thick ropes of white cum several feet into the air in front of him. I heard the thick white liquid as it hit the carpet. Allcock slowed his stroking down and gently milked the rest of the cum from Francis’ dick after which he licked the young man’s cum from his fingers.
The old man was the first to break the silence. He turned to my father and said: “Like you said, my lord, it seems like yesterday!”
My father smiled as he began to clean himself up with the large snowy white handkerchief Allcock offered him.
“Yes, indeed Allcock. Your nephew has learnt well!”
Francis blushed appreciatively. “I had the best teacher, my lord and a wonderful young man your son is, to be sure!”
All eyes were now turned on me. I sat, half lounged in the chair, my dick now soft and hanging down along my thigh. My balls had also dropped in their sac, hanging over the edge of the chair. I felt as if I didn’t ever want to move again. Just get hard and have Francis suck me off again and again, for all eternity.
“Now, where were we?” asked the old man, of no-one in particular. “Ah, yes, you were about to explain the mysteries of gentlemens’ tailoring, young Francis!”
Francis looked at me, a smile playing on his lips, those lips which only minutes ago had been wrapped around my dick giving me such unbelievable pleasure.
“You see, young George, if I may make so bold…?”
I nodded. Frances came over and very gently took my now totally flaccid dick in one hand and my balls in the other.
“You see, sir, when a gentleman has trousers made to measure, we have to take into account the size and, er disposition of his ‘equipment’.” He gently stroked my dick as he spoke.
“May I ask, sir, is sir right-handed or left-handed?”
I was a little surprised at the question, not knowing what that had to do with my sp-called ‘equipment.’
“I’m right-handed,” I replied, my confusion showing in my expression.
“So, sir, when you put your underwear and tousers on, on which side of the crotch-seam or gusset, do you place your penis and which side your testicles?” As he spoke he gently squeezed the various parts of the anatomy as he named them.
I didn’t really need to think too hard about that, it was something I had done automatically every day since I learned to dress myself.
“That’s easy,” I said. “My … er testicles are on the right and my … penis goes from right to left.”
“Quite so, young sir. In which case you ‘dress to the right’ as we say in the business. When we know which way a gentleman dresses, we can compensate accordingly. As you pull your trousers up with the testicles to the right, the left trouser leg rides higher than the right, so we have to make it a couple of centimetres longer, depending on the … er propensity of the organs in question. Some gentlemen need more difference between trouser leg lengths than others. We wouldn’t want a made-to-measure suit from our establishment to give sir an unsightly bulge, so we have to make sure how a gentleman dresses. Now that we have your information, we will be able to tailor your trousers perfectly, but each time you need a new suit we will have to check that your, er…tackle hasn’t changed in proportion to the rest of your body, sir. At least during the next few years or so. Usually by the time a young gentleman has reached eighteen or so, by which time his equipment has reached its adult size.”
Which meant I would have to be naked each time I came back to be measured for a new suit, at least for the next five years or so. I found myself looking forward to the prospect. Daddy had told me to expect a growth spurt, so new suits would probably be a regular feature over the next few years.
“I see sir relishes the thought of new suits!” said old Mr Allcock with a twinkle in his eye.
“I most certainly do!” I replied. “I hope I need lots and lots more of them!”
It’s now my son’s thirteenth birthday. He needs his first made-to-measure suit. I shall take him to my tailor’s tomorrow. It’s a shame that Francis Allcock is the last in line. It will mean that Allcock and Seaman will die out when he and his partner ‘Able’ Seaman hang up their tape-measures for the last time, but hopefully there’s a few suits in them yet. My son is looking forward to his first tailor’s appointment tomorrow. I wonder if he will know when asked ‘which side do you dress?’
I bet he won’t but I’m sure he’ll enjoy finding out!
Just as I did!
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