”“I assume you’re saying that the ... column things aren’t natural. What do they appear to be made of?”“Well, we, Jasmine and I, at first,... thought they might be made of ice. But ... they’re obviously artificial, whatever they’re made of. We aren’t even sure the floor is ice, although it seems to be almost clear and very cold, of course. But ... it isn’t quite slick enough, if that makes sense to you. Oh, it’s slick, but not like an almost perfectly smooth ice floor should be. It’s certainly not. If I'd thought about it, I'd have realized she'd never seen a man's hand there. I also wasn't aware that her memories of me doing this to her earlier, in bed, were misty, and that this was feeling so much better."You're... going to... fuck me again... aren't you?" she panted."Maybe," I said. "That depends on you." I'll never ask you to," she groaned, through grinding teeth. She was trying not to have the orgasm that was about to streak through her."OK," I said. She almost cried out as my hand. Casey squirmed, obviously shifting her body to block my move. I realized then that part of the game strategy involved just how far I was willing to get into another player’s “personal space” before things got too awkward. I stretched, fingers trembling, seeking to touch the elusive splotch of green. A self-conscious flush of embarrassment rose as I had no choice but to press my face firmly into the side of Casey’s fabulous tits. I could feel the warmth radiating off the firm fleshy mound. I was starting to get the matrimonial jitters, and getting in the car was what I needed to get rid of them. The new cars were great; more horsepower, more driver controls, more sensitive to what the driver wanted. Patty and Tracy would love them.The rest of those two weeks flew by and, before I knew it, we were standing in Sts. Peter and Paul Cathedral; Patty's Maid of Honor was her younger sister, Elizabeth. My Best Man was who else? Ronnie. True to his word, the good Archbishop was standing.