I see the tattoo of a snake on her left arm, from the elbow around the bicep, it’s head laying on her shoulder.She is standing directly in front of ...me. She takes the Cuba Libre from my hand and takes a long, slow drink from it…Her lips are moistened with the rum. She sit’s the glass down on the table next to me and takes me by my hands, pulling me up from my chair. Her arms wrap around my neck and pull me to her soft moist lips…we kiss a long tongue filled kiss. I can taste the rum on her. But the folks of Lake Wannacum aren't the type to be troubled by questions of actual existence; rather, they're more concerned with the crop that's lying in O'Hannigan's field, waiting on the replacement part for his combine harvester, or the price of gasoline over at the Lucky Prospector gas station. Perhaps it isn't surprising then, that our revered ancestors were happy to be forgotten by the rest of the country, and go on with their peaceful small-town lives, until, in 1898, a visionary. She kissed me more deeply and moaned. Holding her to me with one arm, I moved the hand around her thigh to the front of her panties and put my finger at the top of her camel toe. Greedily I started running my finger up and down the soft cotton, feeling it get warmer and more moist, feeling her hump the finger and ride my thigh as she struggled to stand, her knees getting weaker, her legs failing her, moaning and breathing heavily into wet greedy kisses as she mauled my face. I turned her around. I’m nothing special below the belt, about 6-6.5″ when erect, and I’m more of a shower than a grower. So I took my picture, my cock flaccid, and sent the snap with the caption, “My Valentine’s Present for You.”When I sent the picture, I noticed the time and that my wife was now in class, so I wasn’t expecting any sort of response from her for about an hour or so. So I put my clothes back on, went back to my desk and started working again. Not even 10 minutes later, my phone buzzes. I look down.