Nothing at all.’ ‘You’re too kind Brenda.’ Her Eggs Benedict and my waffle with strawberries arrived. ‘Those eggs look good all of a sudden.... Wish I’d ordered that.’ She cut a portion off and pushed her plate towards me. ‘For you sweetheart.’ I reached over and took her hand in mine giving it a light squeeze. ‘You’re special.’ ‘Just sharing with someone I had a great time with yesterday and still this morning.’ I dropped her off by her rental car. ‘Careful of the sand drifts.’ I waved as I. Dawn was breaking as I drove up the last k of my driveway. My captive was still asleep but I was wide awake in anticipation. I pulled into the garage and took the opportunity to admire my prize. She was about 5' 6'' with black shoulder length hair, probably no older than 20. She had large firm breasts which I took the liberty of caressing. She was dressed in a skirt that barely came half way down her thighs and a tight tank top that reviled a nice amount of cleavage.Leaving her tied I. Usually on this day I had a black humour on me, and would try not to fall into a slough of melancholic woe. However, since my epiphany at the Holy Cross Church graveyard in Bearsted earlier this year I had come to terms with the loss of my former family. At that moment, in some mysterious, inexplicable way, the characteristics of my previous family members had melded with my current family; Caroline with Mimi, and my two adopted daughters, Molly March and Domina Barbados, with my two birth. The computer table faced out into the hall, and my mother's laptop was open and running. And so, for that matter, was she! She wore a hybrid microphone/headphone headset, and nothing else. She had turned the wooden chair around, and through the bars meant to support one's back as they worked, I could see her sex, open and dripping, great puddles forming on the wood between her spraddled legs. Her amazing, full breasts heaved, and she was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, which only seemed to.