YUCK!I take a certain amount of pride knowing that men (and women) all around the world masturbate while reading my little erotic tales. That may soun... disgusting to some, but I don't give a damn. I kind of get off imagining how my stories are used. No, I'll be honest. I'm thrilled knowing how much "use" my stories are put to! How many women can truthfully claim that they get thousands of guys they never actually met to pop a load, or have women from all walks of life moaning while they read. I told him to call the waiter in and to pour a glass of champagne for me. I signed his book (wrote the room number) and as I was raised on my elbows, asked him to hold the glass while I took a drink and then to feed me with a few strawberries which he dipped in cream, I thanked him and he said he would “colllect the trolley later, madame!” I flopped back down onto my front and the masseur continued his work.He manipulated each finger and toe, worked over my arms and legs and made me yelp when. Then our parents got back at us. They all turned around with their backs to us, peeled their Speedos and Bikini bottoms down and off their legs, stayed bent over long enough to moon us, and then turned around again. I whispered to Alex what they were doing. When I saw the four of them holding hands, both moms in the middle, dads on the ends, I backed up and the other kids followed. Our parents took a few running steps and, still holding hands, jumped in right in front of us. After that, we had. “How can you stand it?” asked Tariq.“Even death is holy, my holiness.”“Death, yes, but this smell? How can you stand it?”“It doesn’t bother me. For years before my dear Imam employed me, I used to smell this smell every day. In a strange way it reminds me of my younger years.”“Oh Shrika, only you could find holiness out of something so repulsive. How long has the body been out?”“At least a month.”“I should have made it here earlier. Did you disinfect the body?”“I followed Imam Shabbir’s.