Sharon slipped under the thin white sheet. The two women, one in her 20s and the other in her early 50s faced each other on their side. There was kiss...ing between words. Sharon slipped off her panties. Both women fingered each other’s cunt.“What about that kiss ?”, reminded LibbySharon pushed off the sheet and slid down Libby’s chest kissing as she travelled down to her black pubic patch. Libby opened her legs and bent her knees. Sharon began to lick the young woman’s cunt lips, then her piss. ” The elevator door opened with a ding. She took one look at it and turned away, following Jared back outside.“So, where to?” Heather asked.“There’s a bar not far from here,” Jared said, pointing down the street. “It’s a little place, but I’m sure it will suit our purposes.”Heather giggled. “You mean it will surely have something that will get us wasted?” she joked.Jared grinned. “Yeah, something like that.”An hour and a half and three beers later, Heather was in a much better frame of mind. It. . . .Now a new confusion plays across her face. She’s feeling something, something warm and wet down low. The camera at her rear shows what’s happening. Her crotch already had a damp line from the running. But now the damp is spreading. Her hand flies to it, to feel. I’ll wager she thinks she’s lost control of her bladder, that she’s peeing into her shorts. But as soon as her hand reaches that hot patch, she knows it’s something else.It’s arousal. Pussy juice is swamping her shorts.A new. But more thanthat, I don't know if I'm supposed to be her. Do we even share anygenetic heritage? Maybe the fact that we both put the clock in the sameplace indicates that we do. Or maybe it just shows that we're bothstreamers, and we like to look at the time as soon as we get home.I'm realizing that there is a lot more I don't know, despite Stuart'shelp. Why, for instance, do I still have my own memories? Isn't themental me an aspect of the physical me? If my memories are stored in mybrain,.