The shape of the slats of the blinds, the morning light, fog, casting a shadow, a form. Fog or rain, I can no longer tell, the same nebulous substance... all one, all the same dark feel, the same dark colors. She is dancing in the living room now. Her skirt in a pattern among her, laughing, her cheeks with a blush. She bounds towards me quickly scooping my face towards hers. Lips on lips, skin on skin, the taste of chocolate. Her face so warm. In her arms I am whole, in her arms I am so free, so. I lay there clutching the damp pillows and I wishing I could kiss her real lips now and tell her how much I loved her. I recovered slowly, I figured that my neighbor was probably on one of his regular trips out of town and frankly, I didn’t care if he did show up! If he raised hell with me I would just kick his scrawny old ass and threaten to divulge his sinful secret to his family. I went back to the living room and relaxed and talked with my imaginary mother about how much more I cared for. Glade became ever more feeble and fatigued from having to survive on a small catch of fish and no fresh water. The days stretched ahead with nothing for her to do but scan the horizon for the elusive sign of land. She would dip her net again and again into the sea to catch fish that being raw and salty hardly at all assuaged her hunger and not at all her thirst. She tied herself to the raft at night to avoid being capsized and this made what little sleep she had fitful and uncomfortable.Glade's. I read online that fruit juices tend to make your cum sweeter. I figured I might as well make things a little easier on myself by at least making my cum taste better. I can affirm that it does work!What was strange to me was that I felt myself beginning to think about having trouble with gagging as opposed to swallowing the cum. I didn’t want to choke up and feel like I would throw up. I guess the concern showed on my face because my wife saw me and asked, “Having second thoughts?”I quickly.