He took my right hand and looked at the top, then turned it over andlooked at the bottom. Then he did the same with my left hand."Did I miss some poli...sh sir?" I asked."No Bobbie," he said "but you were drawing on yourself. You are not tohave markers anymore, only crayons."I said "I just missed when I put on the cap, I wasn't drawing on myself."He said "I see what you did Bobbie." But sir, I..." I started to say.He slammed his fist on the table, spilling some milk out of my bowl."Are you saying. His Goddess. Her voice a beaconin the mish-mash hodgepodge of dreams. He couldn't understand her words,but they washed over his soul just the same. Dave was putty. She was thesculptor's hand. Daves swirling mind began to focus. He was in a field.It was green, lush, beautiful. He turned around and there she was. HisDream. His Goddess.... A soft voice rolled over his brain....no...hisMistress. She walked closer, growing taller and more regal with everystep. Exuding power out of every curve, he. Her movements increased in pace and her tension increased, too. Soon she was moaning load, shouting obscenities into the presumably empty room. She loved to fuck herself with closed eyes. She imagined her prince mounting her and pushing his rod into her. She could not withhold it anymore; with one hand, she was pinching her nipple and a final push with the other hand send the dildo deep into her wet pussy. She came with a loud moan and her tense muscles relaxed after a while. She exhaled. ‘Are you OK?’ Margaret called out from the living area. Margaret had been such a fussbudget ever since Emily had taken that tumble in the early fall. But it was rather nice to have someone fuss over you. Emily hadn’t had much of anyone to fuss over her since her parents had been taken together in that flood—more than fifty years ago now. My, how time flies, Emily thought, with a sigh, as she gently pressed the drawer shut and turned toward her friend. ‘Yes, I’m fine, thanks. I was just.