Es war an einem herrlichen Samstagmorgen. Meine Eltern und ich saßen auf der Terrasse, frühstückten, lachten und unterhielten uns. Mein Vater täts...chelte immer wieder den nackten Oberschenkel meiner Mutter wobei sich seine Hand jedes Mal ein Stückchen unter ihren kurzen Rock schob. Ich wusste nicht was da vorging aber irgendetwas Prickelndes lag in der Luft. Nun, es war mir eigentlich auch egal, ich stand auf und verabschiedete mich da ich zu meiner besten Freundin wollte. Dabei lächelten sich. Soon enough though, his efforts are rewarded with my own movements against his hand as my body opens to him. Taking that opportunity, I can just barely feel as his thumb tucks into his hand and with a series of slow pushes and twists of his wrist, I can feel the broad knuckle of his thumb pass through the tight passage and he is fully inside of me. “Aaaauuugghhh,” is all I can say as I feel his hand ball up into a hard and rounded fist inside of me, as he slowly begins to push deeper within. Each time she came she learned a new trick or interesting bit of information from the Rock Mote. It had been the one to teach her the trick of touching minds. A great caution had come with the trick. A caution to never use touch another mind unless there was urgent need to. The Rock Mote had taught her how to pick up rocks with her mind and toss them, faster even than an arrow, almost as fast as lightning strikes. She had used this to tease her Tree mates, but never in anger, and never to do. Beginning in some polar region the winds swooped down and became trapped under the ridge of mountains that circled the northern reaches of the continent. The gusts, boxed in from the north and fed moist circulating air from the south, gathered speed and strength. They became screaming windstorms that tossed anything that was not heavy enough to withstand the pressure or was secured to the ground. The trees rocked furiously as the winds tore through them. The creatures of the forests buckled.