Already melting from the beautiful weather, I boarded a hot, sticky and obviously packed train home from work. After embarrassingly navigating over t... the back of the unstable carriage, I find a spot wedged against the small perch seat by the secondary doors.Arriving at the next stop seeing the expected swarm of people waiting to get on the train was daunting. I put away my phone as the doors open and the train fills. It immediately becomes more comfortable to face the window with my back. Or had she been brutally raped and murdered by the Gomorran soldiers as she'd witnessed them treat the Buggery soldier?Tracey was awoken by Buttercup, who was gently stroking her hair. She lifted herself up on her elbow and looked around her in the bright sunlight at the desolate, parched countryside, initially convinced that she was still in Buggery, and that her memories of the day before had been nothing but an unpleasant nightmare. Buttercup kissed her sadly, but lovingly. Despite her. She could be 18 or 40 and I’d never know which from her face or body.“I work out on Saturday, but I work Monday to Friday,” she said finally. “If you can actually walk by Saturday, then I’ll be glad to punish you some more.”I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I said dryly. “If you think this is punishment, maybe you need to step into my house.”“You think you can teach me about pain?” she laughed, rising to the challenge. “Wadda ya got kid? You hit the P90X and. I’m kneading dough.”“Me too,” saying that I’ll take my hand up to her boobs and started kneading the boobs.“Is this your dough?”“Shh. Keep kneading. I’ll stop when you stop,” closing my eyes. l keep on squeezing and squeezing. Slowly taking my hand inside her blouse. I’ll knead her bare boobs like dough. My mom knows very well that asking chapati is a signal for action and removes her bra purposely.My mom having eyes closed moans and slowly kneads the dough taking a long time. Reaching a high.