The juke boxed, cracked and ready to give up its unhappy life played ?Misty?. No one was listening.Across from the bartender, seated in a booth, was a...man. He was nondescript but for the long black duster and black engineer’s boots that appeared to wear him, rather then the other way around. In his hand was a pocket watch. Like the jukebox playing ?Misty?, the pocket watch played music too. Like the jukebox, no one listened to the music pouring forth from the watch. Two booths down was a woman,. I feel her moving, nearly undulating, on the couch. I look down our entwined bodies and see another's arm, nearly disembodied in my enhanced state, snaking up from the direction of the floor. There is no hand attached, the arm seemingly ending just above the wrist as it disappears under the unbuttoned fly of her jeans. The arm moves, flexes, moves. Her body writhes in concert with the movement of the arm.I struggle up to a sitting position, and the scene evolves into something more real, more. Later, when we got up and made coffee, she confessed to me that she had always wanted to try anal, but was afraid it would hurt. She said it did hurt, but wanted to try it again. I said I would be glad to try her little ass again, but we would use KY and I would do her doggy-style next time. She agreed, and even offered to get the KY jelly. How good a little girl is that?A couple of days later, I stopped by to see Linda after work (she was a waitress), and found her with a new, short haircut.. And all the timeshe stroked her cock, running her big hairy hand up and down the shaft."I am Burt," she said, caressing her knackers with the stubby fingers ofher other hand. "I'm Burt 'Arper, the stable hand at Griply 'all. I'm abig burly hairy man and I 'ave been since the day I was born."Hearing the sound of her man's voice, thick with its Yorkshire accent,made her even more aroused. She didn't rush what she was doing though. Shedrew it out slowly, just really relaxing into the pleasure,.