Maybe once he'd recovered he'd take me roughly there too, draped on my back across the low furniture, tipping the bubbling liquid over my tits, suckin... and lapping it up as he pounded into me. Lifting my legs over his shoulders, he could pour the effervescing liquid over my boots and clean it up with his talented tongue. An expensive luxury, but oh so worth it. Maybe after being covered in sticky alcohol we'd end up fucking in the shower, slippery hands on soapy skin, water battling to wash. "What did Kirsten tell you about her and me, or Kari and I?" I know all" she whispered. Then I awoke from my afternoon nap and my dream ended. Dreams die hard, in the here and now I loved another woman or maybe two. Thinking about this problem makes me think that Fran has had her future changed already. Each change is like a ripple in a pond and spreads outward forever.Suddenly Eastern Mysticism like Yoga, Buddhism and Zen seemed so real. The Prophet Zoroaster had been a rock in a pond, his. More

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