For all our days—life resembles a stage. People enter our lives—we live in the sunshine of their presence for a little time—then sometimes slowl...—other times painfully abrupt— their light flickers out. Like the vapor from a teakettle, they are gone.Sometimes when I feel that yearning to return to a happier time, I drag out my little Memory Canoe. I paddle off in the direction of a fair land that has never existed, except in one person's memory—Mine.There is a Sweet Someone who lives there in. I kept up on her earlobe for a minute or so, and then started kissing down her neck, over her shoulders, until I got where I was going-her nipple, of course. Boy, if the earlobe made her tingle, this made her crackle. I brought my lips down to her nipple, and, I swear, she whinnied like a horse. She was writhing on the bed, strange little noises coming out of her mouth, when she finally said, "Honey... your hand... down there... please?" in a whimper. So, I slipped my hand down to her pussy.. More

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