He had talked in the end, so you remember it fondly.The long hair you keep, pulled back tight and forced into small bun at the back of your head, look... almost black in the silver light. It looks good, far better than the listless mousy brown the sun would reveal. It matches your eyes, the night leaving your grey iris rings almost none existent by light hungry pupils at their centre. When did they grow so wide? Is that just the trace of fear that you can’t keep hidden? Apprehension at what. Her hands went to my belt as I leaned against the tree, unable to say or do much of anything. Then she unhooked the waistband and slid the zipper down. She pointed to a patch of deep thick grass a couple of feet away and said, "We need to get you over there, so you can lie down, Uncle Bob."I'm telling you I was putty in her hands. She got me there and, in the process, managed to get my pants down around my knees. That left me in my boxers.I don't mean to break the mood here, but I have to tell. More

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