I was never going to hurt her. She knew this. I was her scapegoat, so to speak. (May the Romans never be forgiven for making us satyrs Caprine creatur...s in their future!)Katze the Dear became Katze the far, so to speak. Her mission was to find one male of her species who would not bleed her heart dry. Would that I had found her earlier. Her search carried her far beyond Arcadia. My friend Echo brought me repetitions of her cries for many years after. They played plaintively in the wind.I had so. Now she was ready.She rolled over, pretending sleep, and snuggled against her husband. He kept still, also pretending. But her hand had 'accidentally' fallen on his penis when she moved, and she grasped it gently, feeling it fill with desire and pleasure. One of his hands wrapped around her and stroked her back, exciting her and him because he could touch her bare skin and they both knew she was naked. His big hands and long arms reached all the way to her bottom, where he grasped her tightly. More

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