.. and curl your fingers a little when you go insi... yes.... mmm.... yesss. I want you to rub my clit now, do you know where it is?"Embarrassed, but...knowing he couldn't lie, he said, "Hmm, no not really, I mean I have an idea from porn but..."She didn't let him finish. "It's okay, here, switch places with me." She motioned for him to stand up and she laid on the bed, spreading her legs towards where he stood. "Look, right here." She took her fingers and spread the top of her pussy apart,. Let?s get back to the legs. You don?t need your legs broken.?Evan: ?It?s part of it. Plus it?s easy enough to get them repaired. If I?m going to put myself through this, I?m going all the way. I will not chinch on anything.?Dad: ?There?s no proof Jesus ever had his legs broken.?Evan: ?No there?s not. But it was very common in crucifixions of the time.?Dad: ?I?m not convinced. This will be brutal enough.?Evan: ?Yeah this whole thing is brutal. Because it was real. Jesus suffered and they. Most of them walk away scratching their heads, even after I explain it. My wife doesn't even ask anymore. She claims that it gives her a headache just thinking about it. I think she has heard enough, because of the changes I have told her I see. As a Monitor I see what occurs when we have gone back and made changes, where everyone here changes, as the ripple passes through. For a while, we Monitors live with dual memories of the same events. A memory of what was, and a separate and just as real. She handed me a scotch, and a vodka for herself. She looked worn and stressed for the ordeal. I could tell that all of the man-chores in the house had fallen by the wayside. As we got caught up, I told her that if she made a list, I would take care of them for her before I left. She objected saying she would hire someone to do those things, but I insisted. Eventually she relented and I assured her that repairs would be done correctly and no one was going to rip her off. I told her my job was.