I awoke bathing in sweat, panting heavily at what I had just dreamed. Dreamed? Dreamed? For days afterward I could not get the face of Halliwell out o... my mind. I sketched it numerous times in my sketch pad only to tear them out as I had done with all the others and tossed them in the trash. For several nights afterward I had only the most mundane of dreams. I was still haunted by Halliwell. Had I read about him in some book or seen something? The human mind was good at collecting information. Finally, a bit frantic, goo dripping from her pits and her rib cage, she rushed into the bedroom, her parents room where the closest phone extension was, and answered the ringing.It was Davey, a young friend of hers, a nice boy from school who she had on occasion imagined herself fucking. "Gee, Davey," she began, thinking that she might tell him to call back, but she couldn't finish her sentence. He was excited about something, and he just had to tell her about it right then. She let him go on.. “These are photos that I personally sign and give to those members of the audience at my seminars who are willing to come up on the stage and perform.”Shari looked through the photos. The first one was me jacking off with huge streams of cum spurting forth from my penis. The photos were all done in a studio by one of the nation’s foremost photographers and the color, clarity and sharpness was unmatched. There were several different views, but all were cumshot photos. “Can I keep these?” Shari. The way I saw her kept changing every minute.We had dinner, and she talked about a lot of things and how good the food was. I was having plans of making her my food tonight, but I was afraid. I hugged her a few minutes back on the terrace. But she didn’t even talk about it.She kept talking about anything and everything except that. I felt like she talked about every other random topic to divert from the hug matter, but I wasn’t sure.After having dinner, it continued raining, and there were zero.