Karen – Deadly Addiction


The usual yellow police-no trespassing tape was blocking the entrance of the small apartment. In the bedroom, a few officers were gathering evidence. An officer took a few pictures then approached a woman that appears to be in charge of the investigation.

“So, inspector. What do you think?”

“Interesting, yet weird Phil. What do you think is the cause of death, John?” directing her question to the coroner.

“Looks like suffocating.”

“Yeah. Looks like it…” Said the woman, looking at the body, lying on the bed, over the bed sheets. It was of a woman, early 20’s. Obviously a very pretty woman, but with strange dressing habits.

She was wearing the thickest and tightest denim catsuit she had ever seen. Her waist was tightly encircled and compressed by the thick fabric. It was tightly wrapping every part of her body like a second skin. It was so tight that her rib cage could be made out. High heels shoes, with a 5 inches high heel at least, were laying on the floor, as if they had been thrown away in a struggle.

“Any trace of violence?” she asked again the coroner examining the body.

“Can’t tell yet, Karen.” He answered. “But I don’t see any evidence. To me it looks like she suffocated because this… suit, is way too tight.”

“Yeah.” Said Phil “I really wonder why anyone would wear something that tight.”

“What puzzles me,” Said the coroner” is how she could put this … thing on in the first place. I mean it is incredibly tight.” He said, trying to pinch the faded blue fabric on the victim’s thighs, but couldn’t grab a single fibre. “There’s no way she could put that suit on.”

“You’re suggesting someone helped her in?” she asked.

“Even with help. Look!” He said, taking the victim’s leg and lifting it. The denim suit was so tight, the whole body was completely rigid. The denim was tight from the knee up her neck, including both arms. It was so tight, her arms wouldn’t bend. “She can’t move in this thing, and she couldn’t breath, that’s why she died of suffocation.”

“Very interesting.” Said inspector Karen while taking notes on her little pad. “Do the usual drug tests, etc.”

“Yes, lieutenant.” Said the coroner, packing back his stuff while morgue workers were putting the body in a body bag. It revealed that the bed sheets were lightly stained blue. Immediately, a technician took a sample.

“Smells weird.” He said, while rolling a cotton swab on one of the stains.

“The stain appears to make pretty much the body contour.” Said Phil.

“Can this be of any help?” said another officer from the bathroom.

Karen and Phil walked in. He was pointing at the bathtub, filled with about four inches of water, blue tinted. On the edge of the bed was an empty bottle, the size of an average shampoo bottle. On the bottom, a fine layer of very thick, dark blue substance. Karen asked the chemist to come to see it.

“Smells the same.” He reported. “I would say the suit got soaked in the bathtub along with that stuff” he said

“I agree with you.” Said Karen, taking the bottle in her latex gloved hands.

“Get Tight. Lynda’s Tightness Emporium. – Come get your body hug”. Read Karen. 

“I think I saw a business card for that name in the bedroom.” Said Phil. They walked back to the bedroom, and there, right next to the phone, was a business card.

“Interesting. We should pay a visit to this Tightness Emporium, whatever that is.” Said Karen.

She removed her latex gloves and threw them into the nearest trash can. She walked out, feeling the sun on her dark blue tweed jacket and polyester pants. Her large flat heels slapped on the hot pavement as she walked to her car. 

She hopped into her car and drove to the address she had noted from the bottle. It was on the other side of the city.

The drive was long through the heavy traffic. When she reached the place it was pretty much lunch time. She decided to go in first, then take time to grab a bite.

It was a rather small boutique, sandwiched between a big electronic store and a jewellery store. The small display window showed mannequins in tight fitting denim and leather jeans.

Karen pushed the door open, ringing the hanging bell. She was surprised by the strong musk smell of the leather. As she walked the small aisle, she noticed all kinds of garments, from pants to dress to catsuit to jackets, in a large selection of fabric such as denim, leather, PVC, nylon, spandex, etc.

From the back of the store came a young woman, obviously having her lunch, as she was chewing.

“Hi, may I help you?” she said, her mouth half full of food.

Karen was struck by the way she was dressed: very tight jeans, tighter than she ever saw, high heels platform shoes giving her even longer and slimmer legs, a tight shirt under an equally tight denim jacket. The sleeves were so tight that she appeared to have difficulties reaching her mouth to wipe some speckle of food on the corner of it. She walked rocking her hips as if the jeans were simply rendering her too stiff to walk normally.

“Yes. I’m lieutenant Karen from the metro police. We are investigating a suspect death. Do you know that woman?” she asked, producing a picture taken from one of the frames back at the victim’s apartment.

“Hum… I think I recognise her. Suzy, I think. She came here a few times to buy some merchandise.”

“Do you remember when you last saw her?”

“I think it was about four days ago. Is she the one dead, if I may ask?”

“Yes she is.”

“Oh, poor thing. How did she die?”

“We are still investigating it.” Said Karen. “What is this stuff?” she asked, pointing in the counter at blue filled bottles, identical to the one found at the apartment.

“That’s Get Tight. It’s a product we have developed. It is used to shrink garments to the proper size. You put one cap into five gallons of water, you soak the garment for two hours. You get the excess off, you put the garment on and you wait for it to dry, about two hours. The garment will shrink to perfectly contour your body, giving you the perfect hugging feeling.”

“Hugging feeling? What is it about all this tight thing.”

“Never tried tight clothes, like tight jeans before?” asked Lynda.

“Hell no. Not comfortable.” Answered Karen with disgust.

Lynda raised her eyebrows.

“I guess you never tried it yourself. You only assume that it is uncomfortable because you’ve seen others move in them.”

“Well… That… That is not the point of my visit. Do you remember selling that stuff to her?”

“As a matter of fact, I think that’s what she bought when she came four days ago. Why?”

“What would happen if, let’s say, the garment would soak into a highly concentrated solution.”

“How much concentrated?”

“Don’t know. Half the bottle?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The garment would shrink way too much to be comfortable, and would probably rip in half before the end of the process.”

“What if the garment is sturdy enough to withstand the pressure?”

“I would assume blood flow obstruction.”

“Could someone suffocate?”

“If she put on a jacket, I assume, yes. But why? Are you telling me that Suzy…”

“Seems to.” Said Karen. “If the matter is true, I would suggest you get a good lawyer. That stuff is too dangerous to be on the market. May I have a bottle for my investigation?”

“Yeah, sure.” said Lynda, handing her a bottle of the blue stuff. “But we’ve been selling it for 2 years now, and, if proven, it’s the first reported death. If you follow the instructions, there’s no danger.”

 “I’ll keep you posted. Good day.” Said coldly Karen, while leaving.

“That woman needs a life.” Said Lynda out loud once Karen was out of the store, before returning to her lunch, wiggling her butt on the way in.

Two days later, Lynda wasn’t surprised to see the police officer coming to the store. She grinned. Not because she recognised her as Karen, but because she was again wearing a dull light grey skirt and jacket kit. Plain boring.

“Hello, officer Karen, right? How may I help you?” said cordially Lynda.

“I’m fine. I have the final autopsy results: she died of suffocation because her thorax could not expand, the result of a too tight denim suit.”

“Wow!” said Lynda, in disbelief. “She must have used quite concentrated stuff.”

“Probably, but the analysis is not completed yet.”

“But the instructions are clearly written on the bottle.” Said Lynda, suddenly on the defensive.

“Relax. We checked your instructions, and you’re protected.  You clearly state that exceeding the concentration might cause serious injuries, or even death, and to never exceed two caps per 5 gallons. Just warn your customers more strongly.”

“I’ll do what I can, but tight jeans can be a very addictive fetish.” Said Lynda. “You should try it?”

“Hell no!” Said Karen, and making a step back as if she had talked of the devil.

“Why not? And it would make a change to get off those boring suits.” Said Lynda, defiantly.

“Are you nuts? These are top of the line designer suits, they are…”

“Boring. They don’t massage you. They don’t pleasure you. They don’t hug you.” Said Lynda, going for a clothes rack and picking a pair of jeans, coming back to the counter, putting the jeans on it, then going to the shoe rack and picked a box before returning to the counter, get a bottle of Get Tight and put everything on a plastic bag before handling it to Karen.

“Here. Take this home and try it. I believe the jeans should be your size. Just follow the instructions of the bottle, and you should get the proper fit. As for the shoes, you can’t experience tight jeans without high heels.”

“You’re kidding. I won’t pay to try something so weird.”

“Who said you have to pay?”

“Trying to bribe me now? I said I had nothing against you, but now I’m starting to.”

“Stop it, will ya? I’m loaning them to you to help the investigation. Try it. You may understand the drive Suzy had to want to have her jacket that tight.” Said Lynda, calmly, still holding the bag at arms length.

Karen picked it, reluctantly, yet intrigued.

“T… thank you.” She said timidly.

She left. Lynda smiled.

*     *     *

The day had been long and exhausting. Karen was sitting on her couch, watching the TV while chewing chips. There was a commercial about jeans, showing women in skin-tight stretch jeans. She had a look at the plastic bag near the entrance door of her small apartment. She wondered.

She got up and dragged her feet to the bag, picked it up and walked back to the couch. She took the jeans out. They were medium blue, and appeared quite supple and soft, worn-like. 

“Guess. Not a bad brand, I think.” She said, looking at the jeans held at arm length. She had difficulty remembering when was the last time she wore jeans. She was a teenager at the time, but she always prefers designer skirts. A fashionable lady would not wear jeans. But at the moment, she was alone. No one would see her with them on, and if one did, she could say it was related with the investigation, which in fact, it was.

She walked to the bedroom, removed her skirt and proceeded to put them on. She was surprised by the fit. That Lynda had the eye to size a person. They were not exactly tight and not exactly loose either. Just a snug feeling. She walked to the kitchen and back, and surprised herself at rubbing her hands on her thighs. The denim felt so soft and not uncomfortable at all. She wandered around her apartment, walking from one room to the other, but soon, the too long legs of the jeans, she had rolled up, were getting annoying as they were unrolling constantly. She decided to have a look at the shoe box.

“What the hell is that?” she said, producing a pair of white high heel platform sandals. The platform was about 2 inches and the heel was a staggering 6 inches!  She thought about putting them back in the box, but she decided to try them anyways.

“It’s for the investigation.” She said to convince herself. 

She put the shoes on. Her first steps were unsteady. Getting acquainted with her new height was not easy, she, who was used to wearing flat heels shoes, but she was surprised at how fast she got the hang of it, and how good they felt. After walking in the apartment for 10 minutes, she settled down in front of the TV. Late that night, when she removed them to go to bed, she kind of felt sad.

The next day, she was eager to come back from work, to put the jeans back on, which she did even before fixing herself something for dinner. She prepared the food wearing the tight jeans and the high heels.

After dinner, she took the bottle of Get Tight in her hand and started to read the instructions. After some internal fight as to whether she should do it or not, and then putting the excuse back on the investigation, she mixed the water and the Get Tight .

An hour later, she was laying on the bed, feeling the jeans getting tighter around her legs, hips and waist. She was breathing more and more rapidly as she ran her hands along her hips and thigh, making frequent trips to her crotch. 

She could feel the denim tighten very slowly as she squirmed on the bed. They were tight, and felt really good. She got up and made a few steps before realizing she had forgotten to put her shoes on, but putting them on with the jeans was a struggle as it was not easy to bend down. She made a mental note to put the shoes before the jeans tightened, the next time.

She walked around the apartment. She got stimulated quite soon, and hardly believed that wearing tight jeans and high heels could be such a turn on. There was probably something in the Get Tight, but then again, she had that rush feeling with the brand new jeans. Was she becoming a freak?

She returned to the bed and laid on her back, caressing her tightly encased legs while squirming, and letting out soft moans of pleasure. She put her hands below her, between her buns and the mattress, feeling the tight jeans on her palms, feeling the crease just under the bun as she squeezed it, putting her finger in it, rubbing, scratching. It was so… weird. Her brain started to wander off. Soon after, she fell asleep.

She was covered by hands, the hands of numerous hunks that were massaging her, squeezing her breasts, getting their strong hands on her hips and thighs, feeling the tight denim on her legs, squeezing her buns. She moaned of pleasure.

“Driiing… Driinng… Driiinnng…”

The numerous men suddenly became fuzzy, their shape disappearing.


She woke up. It was the doorbell. She rushed to her feet, not realizing she was still in tight jeans, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor as she ran for the door she opened in a hurry. It was Phil.

“Hi Karen… Wow! I’ve never seen you in jeans before, and certainly not that sexy.”

“Hein? Oh… Shit!” she said, turning away. “I’ll be right back.”

“What’s with the jeans and high heels?” he asked.

“I… I was trying something for the investigation.” She said nervously from behind the closed bedroom door. “Shit. This is too tight.”

“Say what?” 

“Nothing. I’ll be right there.” She said as she was struggling to get the tight jeans off her legs. She found interesting the imprint of the seam of the jeans on her leg, and at the same time, it made her realize that she had spent the whole night in them, overslept and hadn’t taken a shower. What time was it anyways? 9:30! Shit! She was an hour late! She quickly refreshed herself and met Phil back  in the living room, this time wearing a more classic burgundy skirt and jacket, with black flat heel shoes.

“This is more like you… although I didn’t mind the other, let’s say, look.” Said Phil with a smile.

“Yeah, whatever. Sorry, I overslept. Ready to go?”

They went on with their daily job. Phil tried to bring the tight jeans subject back, but Karen limited her answers to the investigation.

Karen was quick to go back home at the end of the day, and was eager to start her plan.. Eager to go back into tight jeans. But first, she had to buy more clothes. More tight clothes.

She washed the jeans per the instructions, so they returned to their original size while she went shopping for the missing items at the nearby Wal-Mart.

She was back an hour later with T-shirts and a denim jacket. She was quick to soak a T-shirt and the denim jacket into the shrinking solution, then doubled the concentration by adding one more cap and soaked the jeans in. She welcomed back the tight embrace of the jeans and she felt the cotton shirt slowly wrap itself tight around her torso, and she felt the denim jacket embrace her, but as soon as it became tight, the button closure gave up, tearing the buttons off. And the arms seemed too wide to begin with, as they shrunk but not enough. The jeans continued to shrink, tightening, embracing her legs. She started to squirm on the bed when she heard a ripping sound and she lost the tight feeling on her right thigh. She tried to sit to see what had happened and her left thigh ripped open at the same time. The jeans had given away. 

She wanted more. She wanted to feel tighter. Everything was too weak. She would need something sturdier. She was sure to find it at Lynda’s boutique, but she was embarrassed to go there to shop for tight clothes for herself. She still didn’t accept the fact that she liked it. It was just something to pass. Just the investigation.

The next day, early in the morning, she went to Lynda’s Tightness Emporium. Lynda recognised her.

“Hello, Lieutenant. What can I do for you today?”

“Hello miss Lynda. I… I’m still investigating that death. I mean it’s hard to believe someone would suffocate by wearing tight jeans, right?”

“Yeah, I find it hard to believe myself. The stitches or the zipper should give away long before suffocation occurs.”

“Euh… yeah.” Said Karen, somewhat embarrassed, and trying not to show that she had experimented with it. “So, I would like to make some more tests. What do you have that is the strongest?”

“Of course.” She said, walking to a cloth rack. “I have this jumpsuit, here.” She said, showing a long dark blue suit with contrasting white stitching. “It is made especially for us. It’s extra heavyweight denim, and reinforced stitching. Quite sturdy. You can go easily with 2 caps of Get Tight in the regular solution without risking tearing it.”

That’s perfect thought secretly Karen, as she took the garment.

“But that one is too large for you. Let me get your size.”

“No, no need. It’s not for me.” She lied. “It’s just to experiment.”

“As you wish.” Said Lynda. “But that one isn’t for free.”

“Here.” Said Karen, handling her credit card.

She paid for the suit and rushed back home. She prepared a double dose of the solution soaked the jumpsuit in it and did the rest of the procedure. She put the platform shoes on and laid on the bed, waiting for the tightness to embrace her. But it didn’t come. Yes, the catsuit shrunk, but not enough. She had taken it way too large. Now, she couldn’t send it back and asked for a smaller one. She couldn’t admit to Lynda’s face that she was now hooked to tight jeans. She would take matters into her own hands.

She redid the solution, but this time put the rest of the Get Tight bottle in it. Yes, it would shrink a lot, but she figured she would have time to feel it, and if it becomes too tight, the denim will simply rip open, freeing her. Suzy’s body was frail, and she was probably crushed because she was too weak. She was a police officer, trained and in good shape. That would not happen. That could not happen.

She put the catsuit on, laid on the bed and waited. It wasn’t long before she started to feel it shrink, getting tighter. She softly moaned while she slowly squirmed on the damp bed sheets, rubbing her crotch, her thighs, her hips, her breasts. She was breathing heavily. It was wonderful, getting tighter every minute. Tighter. Tighter.

“Hi, I’m Lynda, may I help you?” she asked the handsome man entering the store.

“Yeah. My name is Inspector Phil. I work with Karen.”

“Yes. How is the investigation on that mysterious death going?” 

“It’s going well, but we still need more information. The denim that exerted the pressure to suffocate her on her stomach is very thick, much thicker than anything available on the market. I thought you would maybe have the garment in question.”

“I’m surprised the buttons haven’t given up.” she said.

“There were no buttons, it was a zipper.”

“Oops, sorry there. I don’t have a jacket with a zipper.”

“Jacket? Who told you about a jacket.”

“Karen mentioned it.”

“No, the victim was wearing a catsuit, I would say like this one.” He said, pointing at a dark blue and white stitching model.

“Yes, this is exclusive to us, it’s extra heavy-weight denim with reinforced stitching and army grade zipper. It’s almost indestructible, but at too high pressure, it gives. At least, according to our tests.”

“Can you check when Suzy had bought it?”

“Yes.” She said, punching on her computer. “She bought it… 7 days ago. But wait, if the data here is right, she bought it about 3 sizes too big for her. It should never have shrunk enough to suffocate her. One cap shrinks a garment by 5 percent.”

“Perhaps a cap, but what about a whole bottle?”

“You’re nuts.” Said Lynda, laughing. “Who would be stupid enough to pour a whole bottle… Oh my gosh! She did!”

“According to the results of the analysis of the soaking solution, yes. It was about 200 times the recommended concentration.”

“200 times! Shit! Err… Did Karen have some results with the things I loaned her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What did you loaned her?”

“A pair of jeans, and a bottle of Get Tight. Oh, and she came back this morning to get a catsuit.”

“Today? It’s supposed to be her day off. Why would she come to buy a catsuit for the investigation?”

“Oh, shit!” Said Lynda. “She bought a catsuit. Do you know where she is?”

“Probably home, but why?”

“Quick, let’s go.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Hurry, and I hope you have the siren and flashers of your car.”

Lynda ran to the door, and locked it behind her. Phil showed her where his car was, and Lynda ran to it. Phil couldn’t take off his eyes from the sight, seeing that woman, in extremely tight clothing, wiggling her butt from side to side, struggling on her high heels, but looking quite at ease with it. She could see that the jeans were so tight that the flesh of the buns had nowhere to go, creating a large crease at the base of the bun on the backing leg. For some reason, it was interesting to watch, having never seen anything like that. He was imagining Karen in them, fantasizing that she was coming to work like that. 

As Lynda slowed down when reaching the car, he did the same, almost forgetting that he was the driver.

“You’ll do some sightseeing later.” Said Lynda in a rush, jumping Phil out of his daydream.

He unlocked her door and ran to his side. He was seated and ready to go, but Lynda was still struggling to get in.

“Problem?” asked Phil.

“Well, this is not exactly the right jeans for that sitting on the floor of a car. I’m used to a van where you sit pretty much upright.” She said as she finally sat, lowering the back of the seat. “Go. I’ll manage.” She said.

Phil put his red police light on the top of his unmarked car, turned on the siren and drove off.

“I… I don’t get it.” He said, “Why wear something that impairing?” he asked.

“You will never know, you’re a man.” Said Karen. “But feeling hugged all over your body is something like nothing else.”

“But it’s so… weird.” He said, piloting the car at high speed in the heavy traffic. “What would push someone like Karen to like it that much, all of a sudden?”

“I would say they are in great need because they accepted it too late.” Said Lynda.

“Accepted it?” asked Phil.

“Okay. What is your favourite colour? Why is it that colour?”

“Well… I… Because I like it.” He answered, knowing it didn’t make sense.

“Now, I put in front of you two women, twins. One wearing a bikini, and one dressed like me. Which one do you prefer to look at?”

“Well, I would…”

“Don’t answer. You would answer the bikini one because that’s the macho male answer to give out. But deep down, seeing how you looked at me, I KNOW you would choose the tight jeans one.”

Phil didn’t answer. She was wrong. She HAD to be wrong. He made a sharp left turn as he reached Karen’s street and stopped in front of a 10 storey apartment building.

“Here. She’s in 406.” He said as he got out of the car and rushed to the passenger side to help Lynda unfold from the low seat. He made a swift move, touching her tightly encased arm in the process, hoping Lynda hadn’t noticed. He liked the feeling.

They both ran to the building, Lynda’s heels clicking hard on the concrete alley. They rushed for the elevator, but it was on the 10th floor.

“Too long.” Said Lynda, heading for the stairs. Phil followed. He was surprised at how fast she was managing the stairs, but tried at the same time to hide the hard-on growing in his pants, triggered by the sight of the tightly encased butt struggling to get upstairs. Man, it was so hot to look at that he tripped a few times.

“Geesh! Put some ice on it.” Said Lynda, knowing perfectly what was going through his mind. “…or step in front of me.” She said, stopping and letting him go in front. He walked faster, reaching Karen’s apartment before Lynda.

He knocked hard on the door.

“Karen, it’s Phil. Are you there? Please answer.”

Nothing. He tried to open the door, but it was locked.

“This is locked from the inside. She must be there. KAREN!” he said again, knocking hard, but no answer. He walked back, preparing to ram the door.

The catsuit was getting tighter and tighter. Her breath was becoming shallower. Although the increasing pressure was simply awesome, sending her pleasure waves like never before, she started to be concerned about how tight it was becoming. Perhaps a whole bottle was too much. But the suit should have given up by now. No. There was something wrong. She had to get out of the suit. She tried to reach the zipper, but couldn’t. The denim had shrunk, but at the same time, became thicker. Now, her arm, tightly wrapped in denim, could barely move. She couldn’t bend it to reach the zipper handle. She struggled to get up. She almost couldn’t move. She was as stiff as a plank. With the state of panic, she started to lose her breath, making the panic grow higher.

She closed her eyes and tried to calm down. There was an obvious solution. There had to be. She would get to the kitchen and cut the suit open with a knife. That’s it. She struggled and with pain and effort, managed to get up. Walking was a whole different story, as the stimulation was very intense. She had an orgasm every 3 paces. But the suit was tightening relentlessly. 

She knew what went wrong. She knew how Suzy died. She had not accounted for the suit getting thicker, and thus, sturdier, almost indestructible. She had not anticipated the limited movements that would give. If she could at least write something, write a warning. She grabbed a pen but the suit was now so tight that the blood flow was being restricted, and she couldn’t control her fingers. She hardly felt them. She collapsed on the floor, panting in extremely short and fast gasps. 

Laying on her stomach, she started to move slowly, which brought back pleasures waves, but it was short lived. She heard noises. Banging noises. It was Phil. He was at the door. She stretched an arm to reach it, but the darkness was engulfing her. Everything went dark as she saw someone enter.

“She’s there. Oh my god. Karen.” Yelled Phil as he kneeled beside her.

“She’s out of breath. We have to get her out. Gosh! This is tight.” Said Lynda as she tried to unzip the suit, but the tension of the denim was too strong, locking the zipper in place.

Phil reached for a pocket hanging from his waist belt, and produced one of these multipurpose tools, and made a pair of pliers. He grabbed the zipper slide and pull with all its strength. The zipper gave away, opening with a pop, and Phil flew on his back.

Automatically, Karen took a deep breath, and blinked her eyes.

There was a sharp pain on her stomach and she felt something cold. She opened her eyes to see Phil and Lynda looking at her. She took many deep breaths. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes. I think I am. I… I…”

“No need to explain. Lynda did on my way in. You’re simply hooked on tight clothes. You just went overboard, like Suzy did. You are lucky we found you. It was very foolish of you to try something like that.” Said Phil.

“Yes, I know that. I promise, I won’t do it again.”

“I don’t want to lose you. I love you.” Said Phil, looking at her in the eyes.

“But… I thought I wasn’t interesting for you. I was too… boring.”

“Well, if you say that you’re going to wear NORMAL tight clothes, that might change a lot of things.” He said, smiling at Lynda.

“I don’t mind.” She said with a shy smile.

“Okay, come on.” Said Phil as he picked her up. “We have to get you out of that bondage suit.”

© Pete / monsterp63, September 6, 2004

How good was this?

Click on a heart to rate it!

We are sorry that this post was not interesting for you!

Let us improve this post!

Tell us how we can improve this post?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Theme: Overlay by Kaira