And then I decided I must be dreaming because barely concealed beneath the lapels of his peach-pink suit jacket I saw that Zain Love had breasticules ...ust like me, and not any old breasticules but a pair of perky, pokie, jiggly, drool-worthy, teen-angel, breasticules of bountifulness. If all the organisms weren't busy hiding in some other teen-angel's tight, soft, smooth, welcoming, cunny of pleasuring I'd have had at least a dozen of them right there and then, but instead I had to make do with. How did that seem so real to me? I tossed back the covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Damn. Damn. Damn. It was such a vivid dream – I can remember it as if it really happened. His scent, his hands, his lips (oh, his lips!) – could it be that my imagination really just ran away with me this time? Had to be, Rachel. No other explanation.I turned on the coffeemaker and made my way to the computer. Checking in on my email, I see the usual crapola. Gee, if I wanted a great mortgage. There was a long thin chain snaking across the floor of the room, one end of which was fastened securely to a bolt in the wall. The other end was linked to an iron manacle which was clasped around the woman's right ankle. Having risen from her seat on the bed, the woman stood silently facing me as I stared at her. There was no expression on her face. Finally I was able to speak. "What---who are you?" I stammered. "What is--what does this mean?" The woman said nothing. "Do. “Giving as much as you can take.”“Oh,” she giddily replied, as she ran a stop sign and made a quick un-signaled hairpin turn. “I’m going to like you!”“Do you do this very often?” I asked.“No,” she replied. “This is a first.”She pulled up in front a nice, two story, older brick house and stopped. She turned off the engine and turned sideways in her seat to face me.“Do you want to come in?” she asked.It took me a few seconds to process what she had just asked.“I’ll be nice,” she softly added,.