We started drinking, and she started talking about her funny sex situations, especially about a guy her husband bought home for her.We had ordered som... more food and drinks kept rolling in. At some point in time, we were comfortable with each other. Her hands were on my crotching moving too, and then I used my hand to unbutton her top. I slid my hand into it and started playing with her areolas.I wanted to suck her, but it was difficult. Meanwhile, I took one of the ice cubes in the drink and. I reached down and caressed her cheek with My fingertips while admiring her body and squeezing My steel hard cock with My other hand. I almost groaned Myself. ‘Oh, Master…’ she whimpered. ‘What is it, little one?’ I asked, moving back around to sit down between her spread legs again. ‘I feel like such a… a whore.’ ‘Why do you feel like a prostitute, little one?’ ‘Not a prostitute, Master. A dirty w… wanton s… slut!’ she panted. Just saying the words made her even more aroused. Lifting her. "I know where youlive," I gasped out, looking at the end of the hall, at the floor, atanything but her."No," she said. "You know where you live. You've definitely forgottenwhere I live by now. Remember, the soul has everything. Just keepbreathing."I tried to remember my real house. I couldn't. I tried to remember myreal mom. I couldn't. I tried to remember the college that just gaveme a full-ride scholarship. The name of my high school. The name of mybest friend. My own name. . She had done what any loving mother would do and put the safety of her child before her own emotional needs. We walked in silence down the tree-lined streets, holding each other’s hand, each grieving in our inner solitude. We spoke of what happened the day I died. Why she left before I awoke (three days later). The devastation I faced due to her absence. I told her what memories my Swiss cheese brain had of the events of that fateful day, and we walked on. She spoke of the ultimate joy she felt.
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