We met in the parking lot of the Harley shop at 6:30, a safe yet private place that early in the morning. I pulled in and he was just getting off of h...s Harley. He was fully leathered as he walked toward the car. I will never forget the swagger and the tilt of his head as he was looking at me. I was immediately turned on and wet. He exuded raw male sexiness. Then he looked at me with those eyes, eyes that I now know change with his mood, eyes too blue to resist. We chatted for all of 15 minutes. And Em didn’t stop by after her date Friday night. She’d proceeded to break up with Robbie and was out ‘with a group of friends’ for the evening on Friday.Meanwhile, my eighty-year-old head was puzzling about the nature of traveling between realities. One of the things that always puzzled me when I read do-over stories was the butterfly effect. Supposedly, any change in a reality could affect—sometimes adversely—the entire world. A butterfly flaps its wings in Brazil or something and the. We ate the sandwiches and found out we had some water to, but no way this was going to be enough. The main problem was the firewood. We already burned most of it and had to find some way to go out and bring some more from the back of the cabin. I decided the best way was to dig a tunnel in the snow. But it would be hard work. I told Mike about my plan and he agreed with me. A few minutes later we had started digging. The girls helped to. In a few hours we finally reached the wood. This. And then for Carly’s first and last facial from me. I also ate her pussy and rimmed her for the first ... and last time.Things blew up after that, or rather, Mr. Taylor had. He was a deacon at his church, after all. Carly had missed a dab of my jizz somehow in her cleanup, maybe accidentally, maybe not. He was furious with both his wife and daughter, tried to ground the latter for the whole summer, but Mrs. Taylor put her foot down. She threatened to walk out, with Carly in tow, and Carly.