After she was taken that afternoon, something about the way she looked must have changed because suddenly the men at church could not stop oogling her...Last week she was straightening the choir section after the service when a man she didn’t recognize approached her.“Patricia,” he said as if she ought to know who he was.“Yes?”“Beautiful singing this week,” he complimented her. She put on her most heavenly smile and thanked him. He stepped closer and kissed her—a wild, rough kiss that made her. "He was just raw hate. So driven by rage that he was willing todestroy everything and kill everyone. The humans were at war with themachines, but the real enemy was the hate."He sniffed and took a drink. "I remember those movies with more shootingand kung fu."I smiled. "Maybe you're right," I said. "Maybe we went wrong when westopped listening to each other. I used to think you were all justignorant backward bigots." And now?"I peered over my shoulder at the women behind me who were. With the second there was a fragility and softness that was idyllic. With the third I found deep wells of sadness in her, but also beauty in a momentary connection which brought tears to us both.The organiser offered exercises which developed from standing still, to allowing the woman to indicate how I might get deeper into my masculine, with few words and a few simple gestures. I don't have much core strength ( well almost zero actually) and it was revealing and enormously helpful to have a. She told me that she wasn’t into guys or girls. She hated when people would touch her, but she loved it when I held her as we sat watching tv or cuddling up once in a while.That night as I was attempting to pleasure myself. I hear a knock at my door and walks in my beautiful young tight sister.‘Can I sleep here tonight with you?’ She asked.‘Of course, you can sis!’ I replied without acting too excited.Usually, when we sleep together, we talk till 2-3am. Tonight was no different. It was dark in.