The Touch Of A Relaxing Massage And Arousement Session

”“You’re right. But do you understand I don’t do sex with someone who isn’t at least a friend?” She just looked at me. There was moisture ...ut it might be a stretch to call them tears. I raised my palm up but stopped short of touching her cheek. “May I touch you, your face?” I asked in a voice calmer than I felt.She sniffled and nodded yes.I wiped the moisture leaking from her eyes away and cupped her face, making her look at me. “You are not my fuck-doll. I can’t do that, I have to have some. The truth was different.It was a memorial that caused another.Who am I?The funeral was for an acquaintance, a minor ghost from the past. She attended Notre Dame with me but never rode in my Desoto. She looked me up after she moved to the Pacific Northwest. Despite her Notre Dame diploma, her funeral was a secular service that lacked the propriety spiritual ambiance for the mystery of death found in a Catholic religious service, at least for me.Reposed in her open coffin, lifelike, black. More

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