Incredibly, she felt her clitoris throbbing, swelling, pressing against her hood. She felt wet, not just damp but wet, running wet. She looked down an... to her horror saw that she was literally running wet, her legs were wet, the chair was wet and her wetness was dripping onto the floor. Now she really did have to get out of this situation. She twisted in the seat and dragged her robe from the back of the chair, she stood and quickly slipped it over her shoulders. Making for the door, pulling. I actually did feel a pang of jealousy at his reaction to those perfect white orbs. My boobs didn’t look that good. Predictably, her little show gained her more attention than she bargained for, and a tall, good looking guy took note and strode over to the table purposefully. “Wow, nice rack,” said the stranger with a crooked smile. “Can I have a look?” He was broad shouldered and had a strong square jaw. His deep set eyes were fixed on Julia’s generous bosom and he wore an intelligent,. She comes to visit and I haven't seen her inabout 10 years. She arrives in a short jean skirt and cute yellow tank top, but we don't talk much as we're both nervous seeing each other in a long time. As the day goes by, I find her smoking a cigarette outside and, since I smoke, I join her, protecting her from getting in trouble if her mom finds out. We talk about the last time we saw each other and then after dinner, we decide to watch a movie "Club Dred" in my room. She talks about how much she. This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary, the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons. * * * * * However the main attraction of the former laundry room, which is my workroom as a potter, is Martha, the resident ghost. As a child I would sit on the scrubbed table and ask Martha to tell me a story. She always did. When I became an adult, she told me about incidents in her life at the Hall. Each time I.