I turned a reached for a rose and pricked myself finger on the thorns, I pulled off the rose and looked at the petals, the stem, the thorns. So like h...m. Then I looked to the leaves lying dead on the ground. So like me. The forgotten, the mistreated, the broken.After I'd cleaned most of the blood, I got up and threw the rose into the dark shadows behind the bushes. I walked back inside, and realised my parents wouldn't be there. They had to go visit my aunt last night and wouldn't be back until. He made the same protests that I did, trying to get out of it, but of course I knew since he had suggested this, he wanted to do this. His tongue against my cock felt incredible. I almost shot my load right there from the sight of his tongue pressing against me and the wet soft feel of it. This was something completely different. I had masturbated in all sorts of ways up to then, but this sensation of a live tongue caressing my cock was, well, it is very hard to describe. He looked. ‘John, are you listening to me?’ Tiffany asked. I frowned. She’d been nattering on about something that I could care less about. I thought she was doing it to distract me, but now I wasn’t sure. It suddenly hit me that Tiffany and I had nothing in common. It made sense. What could someone my age and an eighteen year old have in common? On the other hand, I never seemed to have a problem talking with Tara. ‘Oh please!’ I growled to myself. ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’ ‘John?’ Tiffany asked. The other option would be like the cave I had retreated to for a time. The entrance could be hidden by the illusion of a solid wall.The question on my mind was, why was there a noticeable presence at the cave, now? You would think that they would still remain hidden. That could mean a few different things.First, that something drastic was about to happen that removed the need for secrecy. If that were the case, then it would be imperative that we strike before the next blood moon. While we knew.