I too took some of the oil and started applying it to her legs. Slowly I moved from below to her thighs and inner thighs. She was surely enjoying it. ...hen she removed my T-Shirt and started massaging my chest. Her nails clawed through my sparse chest hair growth. In the meantime I moved to her hands and then to her collarbone. I played with her neck sending goose bumps across her body. She was now too far in it to control herself. I slowly unbuckled her bra and set it aside. I then slowly. She'd put two and twotogether, and got the right answer."Matt? What the fuck is going on? Why are you dressed like that? Why areyou..." Um, ok. Hang on. Let me wake up properly, and I'll tell you everything."So she sat down on the end of the bed and I told her my tale. She was okabout me borrowing her clothes without asking, even though I had fuckedseveral people whilst wearing them. She followed my story right the way upto the end, when I told her that I wanted to stay like this, I wanted. So if that’s true, is it possible that my whole life could just be a single memory? A movie playing in my mind that is eighteen years long and ongoing, with my brain always wondering what’s going to happen next while my body and the world around me create each new scene about to be viewed? In which case, I could be remembering this from a hundred years into the future, having lived an incredibly long life. This conversation might not be happening in real time, but is actually something that. . . .“HHHHEEEEELLLLLPPPPP!” I screamed waking my self up, waking from another nightmare. My body soaking wet with sweat. I was sitting up shaking, horrified, feeling exhausted, drained and used. My mom made it to my room looking exhausted pulling her robe on looking not too happy to be there. “I’m okay,” I said to her before she could ask. “I’m sorry,” I said sniffling. She came over to my bed and sat down on the bed with me and hugged me to her and stroked my hair. “I think we’re going.