She stands. As she walks away I see the rest of her. Slim. Mauve satinblouse, navy-blue skirt, black high-heeled pumps. The hem of her skirtteases... the backs of her knees. Taupe stockings with black seams. Ismile. Who is she? Do I know her!Dark again."It's a good sign Mrs Nyland," the doctor nods at my erection and at thesmile on my face."He's obviously having good dreams in there," the woman replies, a littleembarrassed.The doctor nods and lifts the chart at the end of my hospital bed. Following the same procedure as Burt, Tom now began to orally tackle Trey’s face with even more gusto. After a thorough face licking they changed body positions, before Tom placed his shoulders up against the wall and arching his back, pushed his hips forward. Kneeling in front of Tom, Trey tilted his head to the side so that he could manoeuvre his head under Tom’s stomach. Once Trey had enclosed his mouth on Tom’s knob, Tom’s hips sprang to life as he secured Trey’s head in his paws.A short. "Did you know anyone from the village with the burnt houses?" I asked in our mixed languages."That was my husband's home village. There were," she indicated twenty by opening her hands twice," people there."We were getting on a lot better now in our communication using our hands and the small number of English wordsand the equally small number of her words that we each now knew. Stringing a long sentence together however was just not possible. It is amazing how much information one can pass to. When we would visit their trailer she would greet each one of us with a huge hug and a large kiss on the cheek. I would live for the brief sensation of her large breasts pushing against my chest, of her thick, full lips pressing against my face. She always smelled clean. I remember that most of all. Her scent, instead of the sour odor of stale sweat that marked most other members of the white trash race, was always of shampoo, of perfumed soap, and it was an olfactory stimulation that never.