When my husband died, the most important thing anyone did for me was hold me and just let me cry. No platitudes. No attempts to sooth me. No attempts ...o get me to stop crying. Just holding me. Both sitting up, and letting me cry myself to sleep at night. Not a word was uttered. And I probably cried for a good twenty hours, total.”“Steve?” Michelle asked.Bethany smiled, “Yes. How did you know?”“Because under that karate physique is a sensitive caring guy.”“The same is true for the lug sitting. "Isn't this the best place to... you know."Tami amazed me. I hoped she always would. She had a cock buried in her most private place and still didn't want to say the word 'fuck.'"If it wasn't forty degrees, it would be perfect," I agreed.We were standing in the middle of the clearing where I had played with Alana. Our jeans and underwear were draped around our ankles while we got it on where--as Tami said--Alana didn't get any.I think the idea that she was doing something that Alana hadn't made. More

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