.In what of life's little ironies, my power relates to my family history.My great-grandfather was a paleontologist, and was involved in the "bonewars"...in the Canadian badlands, where people went a little crazy fordinosaur bones. My grandfather was a tomb raider/archaeologist alaIndiana Jones, and my dad was a forensic anthropologist.Me, I was less into the dead than into the undead, or at least myths andstories about the undead.Vampires, ghouls, spirits, ...And of course, zombies.It was while. From the front I felt fingers un-buttoning my blouse all the way down, whilst hands explored up my outer thighs seeking my knicker line, up deep inside my skirt. The front hands eased my blouse apart gently brushing past my breasts, outwards and upwards flipping my blouse over my shoulders, as the back hands found my knicker line and began to gently curl them down by rolling his fingers right around me from front to back ever lower taking them with him. This was hot! I could feel myself. That night I dreamed of chalk and slate boards, teaching my ladies with images of common items, letters under the image.In the early morning I rode out to an observation platform overlooking the sea, remembering the natural white cliffs were chalk. My escorts filled a leather satchel with chunks of white chalk for me and we liberated a number of large green slate shingles from a redoubt work site and experimented with these two tools the rest of the morning. I set up a series of slates with. Her boobs were not very big but her waist and ass were just perfect. She was a Punjabi and belonged to a rich family. Isha was a very horny girl and was always ready to make out or fuck. We used to do it every time and everywhere. Once it happened that I had to travel for work and could not meet her for 2 weeks. She used to call me every day but I used to be busy with meetings so could not talk to her properly. We both were so used to each other that this distance was killing us. On the 10th.