I nodded as he sat down he said,"I'm Pierre, what are you two lovelies doing alone tonight?"I replied, "Hey Pierre, I'm Sheila and this is my friend J...an, she is shyand doesn't talk much." I continued, "We are on vacation in this romantic city and our dumb assboyfriends decided to go to a hockey game tonight. So we decided to goout on the town."Pierre replied "what fools they must be!, so you are looking for a littleromance. eh?"I replied, "Oh Hell no, we have had some romance already we are. Tell me what you feel. Your enjoyment is large part of mine.”“I feel you moving in me and your chest hair brushing over my nipples.”“And I feel your stiff nipples rubbing my chest. I feel your pussy walls sliding over my cockhead and your entrance clasping my shaft.”“Oh! When you move there, it feels so hot.”“There?”“Yes.”“And here?”“There, too. What are you doing?”“I’m moving deep in my darling. Moving without coming out. Showing my love for the one who excites me by exciting her.”“That’s so. After checking that his long lashes were still secure, andteasing his hair up, a liberal spray of perfume finished the repair job.There was a lot of cum soaked into the chest and bust line of his dress,so he applied large amounts of water and eventually managed to remove themarks. After dabbing the wet area down with a towel he found a hairdryerin the cupboard and blasted the dress until it was dry. "There we are," hesaid to himself, "Good as new," and descended the stairs again to thekitchen. I decided not to explain his motivation, but saved it for a post script I’d publish in a year. The cynic in me still lives. Where did the framed picture come from? Did it originate in some random neuron firestorm? Or is the firestorm the result of some other influence? If you believe in the metaphysical, you can see they come from the eddies of the energies of the universe. SOMEone WAS that narrator at some time and maybe, somehow, I began to channel him. After a year of very different images.