" Sir?" You heard me." I hoped, Mr. President, that I had heard wrong. Palestine is a sovereign country. The world won't stand by and let you order nu...lear strikes on independent countries. Also, Mr. President, there is the political fallout within our own country if we attack an American base. They will not approve of us attacking our own people." Our own people, you say? You can't be one of them, you can't be an American if you disagree with me!" the President snapped back at him. "Palestine. . right!" scoffed an unbelieving Jack."Tis true. This I swear," avowed Erato."Then what happens after the story, song or tape is over?" chuckled Jack, in an effort to poke a little fun at Erato."That is up to the person. After the storyline is through, they must continue it by using their own imagination and creativity. It will be like living life in reality, but will continue to unfold within the setting of the story or film that they choose. What is it that you mortals say about art imitating. I slowly put my index fingers to them and pressed gently, savoring the good feeling that had discovered many years ago. I began to rub them, eyes closed with my head back in ecstasy. I then cupped my breasts in my hands and played with them. Closing my eyes, I rubbed them for a while, moving them up and down on my chest, surprised I was so horny. My hand eventually wandered down to my pajama bottoms, and I found myself pulling them down along with my panties. Now fully in the nude, I could see. ’ ‘I’d rather sleep on the floor than not sleep in my bunk. After sleeping on that thing for thirty years, when not deployed, I’m so used to my little cot that I can’t sleep in a regular bed.’ ‘No wonder why you’re not married,’ she said under her breath and too low for him to hear. ‘Believe it or not, much like my rifle, that bunk is my friend. We’ve seen some things together. Yes we have,’ he said with a sad smile on his face while shaking his head. ‘I bet you even named you bunk,’ she said.