The kids always like making smores, which is a combination of Graham crackers, melted marshmallows and chocolate bars. Mom or my wife would make hot c...ocolate or we would have hot cider.It was in the fall around Halloween, we would sit around the campfire and take turns telling stories. A lot were about ghosts and goblins. Others were stories about going to the cemetery and how the dead would rise and come after us. A lot of horror stories were told, each person trying to gross out everyone. I loaded up my old truck with my fishing gear and the cooler and made my way to the lake with a big shit eating grin on my face. It was starting out to be a great day, the weather was perfect, I was going fishing and the bitch was a thousand miles away. The small parking lot by the lake was empty when I pulled in with my beat up old Ford so I grabbed a spot close to the woods and gathered my stuff. It was a short walk to the small clearing where I’d met her last time, what the hell was her name. I was fascinated by her jiggly breasts until I heard Simon grunt."Oh my," examined Emelda as she exploded in red energy and became visible to an oblivious Simon. I had picked Simon because he, well... let's just say in the past he had produced in copious amounts and was, it appeared, doing so right now inside Emelda. She was engorged with energy.Simon's eyes opened to behold Emelda mounted on his cock. She smiled down at him and started moving her pelvis slowly back and forth."Now honey," she. ‘Alright,’ it said. Ronald recognized it as Ms. Graves. ‘We’ll be down presently.’ The receptionist looked back up at Ronald. ‘The Mistress will be down presently,’ she said. ‘If you could just wait over there?’ She pointed to a small waiting area with a few chairs, and Ronald nodded. Even before he’d fully turned, her expression had returned to that same placid, empty look she’d possessed before he started talking to her. She seemed utterly content to wait at the desk forever, not even.