“I bet he’ll like these,” Holly said, holding each of her best friend’s tits easily. “Should I show mine?”“Better not,” Leslie said. �...�He won’t have any mixed feelings about me.”Then she grabbed a small pillow and threw it at Holly.Holly lunged at her, pinning the smaller girl down and feeling her friend’s naked breasts rub against her. She reached for a larger body pillow, and pushed it into Leslie’s face. The fight was fake, at least at first, but their competitive nature soon got the best of. Underneath this house, there is a great and powerful entity. It has no form. Once this power was a woman. This woman had special powers allowing her to make the nicest girl into a slutty tramp with nothing with sex on her mind. She also could not get enough sex. The locals here thought she was a threat and planned to rid themselves of her. They killed her and buried her deep underground.'"So you're her possessing my body in the form of Whitney?" Not quite, let me finish. The executioner and the. In his fifty years of traveling, as child with his family or the twenty-four years had had spent at sea, no place was so much like home as here. It wasn’t the vague familiarity of a place known but home a place where he truly belonged. The people with there open friendliness, the slower pace of life, there was always time for bonjour ca va (hi how are you) even to the stranger as they entered the shops, or met on the streets. The French charm uniquely its own, Canadian not Parisian. He loved it. I’ve been up North the weekend of the last couple of circles.”“To see your boyfriend? How has that been?”“Good, thanks. Long bus rides, you know…”I waved off the subject and he glanced down at his glass for a moment, then up again, a glimmer in his eye. He smiled at me, caught my hand and pulled me into a large bedroom on the second floor. As he led me through the doorway, his hand fell to my waist. His touch felt thrilling. I turned toward him as he closed the door behind us. Both of his hands.
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