Taking the towel and drying Stella's back.After she had dried her back she gently started to dry her tummy and hips, letting herHand slip between Stel...a's legs. As she did this she asked her friend how the date had gone with max the previous evening. Bloody disaster. Stella had replied. And told her friend about the previous evening. You know he wants me to give up working, and live with him. As no wife of his is gonna work as she'll be to busy having k**s and bringing them up. Knowing that. “Bob, what have I done?” and I began to tell him about all my guilt, shame, and embarrassment. I spilled my guts out to Bob for about five minutes with all my questions and concerns. “Will those guys still respect me? Will they tell all their friends that Bob’s wife is a slut? Will they be over here when you are not at home trying to fuck me? Do they have STD, etc.etc.etc.”. When I was done with a long list of questions, I finally asked the important questions. “Bob, do you still love me?”. It isn't a genetic issue. But two left-handed people living together are bound to be more ... sympatico. We learn to adapt and live in this cruel right-handed world, never seeking credit or acclaim for our special skills."She was laughing now, but not in derision."I like that," she said, still chuckling. "Are you really that put-upon?" Naw. Not really. It's just my thing. I will say I am far more ... in tune ... with left-handed people. I think there is some connection we all have, but I don't. The sand it so hot when his body hits it that for a minute he thinks he's caught fire on the way down - like a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before it ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face with his hands, and waits to stop rolling.He stops, at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enoughenergy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. Whenhe clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make.