Women are funny about things like that. We're gonna see a bunch of hugging and crying," I laughed."You can laugh now, but you'd better not laugh at th...m." Amen," I said.When the wagons stopped for the day, Abby asked if she could go and play with her friends. "Honey, I don't think it's a good idea tonight. Tomorrow we'll be at Fort Hall and from then on you can play every night with them. Tonight, I'm afraid you might run into Mrs. Wattley again."Mrs. Wattley must have scared Abby pretty badly. We laughed. We cried. And at the end we were among the ones standing and cheering. We ate dinner in the Village, at Emilio's. I hadn't been there since the night of July 3, 1976. I was with friends that night. At midnight that night I rose from my seat, raised my glass of wine and started singing he National Anthem. From that time on there was singing in that courtyard until Emily's closed several hours later. Telling Sarah about it brought a smile to my face. 25 years later I am still a friend. They were so soft and firm. Her nipples were nice and hard, searching for some attention. I pinched and playfully pulled one of her nipples as I massaged her other boob. She arched her back and began to grope my pussy harder making my legs almost buckle. My lips parted as a moan slipped from my mouth. "Oh god yes!" She said, as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the table. I was now standing in between her thighs. Her hands slipped up my body, gently grasping my face and bringing. “You nail that concerto. No excuses baby. You can do it and you know how I will reward you.”“How?”“I will be here, knickers off, after rehearsal. Play like Jackie, and you get to feed on my cunt, sweetie.”“Oh, God.”Twisting. Pounding. My fingers, sticky with her honey, took her squishy pussy with deep hard thrusts. And simultaneously my thumb battered her clit. Whimpers turned into moans as she bucked her slit against my hand, juices dribbling down her thighs.My other hand went over her mouth,.