And she’d never referred to me as her slave. No, she would never have been that crude. Her pet is what she called me, her little poochie. Jesus. H...y, this can’t be a completely unfamiliar scenario to you. Everybody has seen this dynamic before, the cute guy or girl who has a strange friend that nobody else would touch with a ten-foot pole. They’re too fat or too tall, or they always have a 5 o’clock shadow by noon. Which isn’t a good thing, when your name is Amanda. The object of their. A small insight into what I meant by "recycling." There were others but so brief, that their names escape me today while looking at this 40 years later. I would like to deal with camp before the youth group. Camp Hugh Beaver was an experience. I was there for 10 years every summer from age 7 to age 17. There was a short interlude at 18 for a week that was "character forming", but, we'll get to that later. At camp, I could be myself, I could grow and develop, I was without the negative. That brings us back to the subject. Looking back at what I have written I see that I have not told you who Nan was so here goes. She was 20 that year and about 5’4′, weighed about 120. Her legs were long and slender and where they joined she had a thick black curly bush, wide, round hips and flat belly and a narrow waist that was topped by nice tits , full (B cup), jiggley and with large dark (almost brown nipples). She had a pleasant face, she was Polish-Italian, and had full lips, a large. "He shrugged and started walking. She moved several hundred feet, watching him closely, and then she ducked behind some rocks. Sure enough, he'd stopped and was looking uphill. Her bullet didn't seem to faze him, as it spalled rocks forty feet away from him. He started moving again, going carefully, showing no signs of trying to untie his hands. When he was close to the bottom of the ridge, she slithered a few feet and was on the other side of the ridge.She started running then, full tilt, as.