I can’t remember the last times I was kissed. I miss kissing more then anything. It’s the unknowing, the hunger for another, yet for a hunger you...��ve never tasted. A meeting of the souls. Alerting all five senses. That first air, when lips touch briefly, lips barely parted, no tongue, just plump skin against skin. There’s an art to kissing … not to be confused with blind zealous. And you know at this point, this very beginning point of this kiss, that if you don’t take it any further you will. My family spent most of the days out and about so I had the opportunity to lie on a lounger round one of the pools in my hotel (next to Reids) to catch the sun and the eye of a few ladies.On the day in question I founder a lounger in a shaded area and hidden slightly from the pool and others by 2 big palm trees. The reason I sat there was to get the perfect view of a lovely old dear with short grey brown hair and a classy black swimming costume on. Her name was Ann, she told me as she mentioned. She was talking about if our world was really the opposite like if men brothels were present and women would come openly to select their own choice of men. I just thought that look at these girls how sexually desirable they are and look at their fantasy stories. So I just thought of a story, which came up by that time, and with the help of her I started writing.This story includes Swati my bed mate, one of my other bed mate Swapna and myself as the main characters. There was a world in which. Why wouldn't he? As things stood, Albert Cosgrove had become the only person with whom he could speak frankly about his work. It became an immense source of tension-release, being able to describe to Cosgrove, at least in general terms, his experiences "on the road."The two men never discussed the specifics of where Healer had been or what he had done, but Cosgrove knew in a general way exactly what he'd been doing, because reports were coming back to him steadily about the mysterious "mass.