With a sense of dread, she pulled it to the top.That's when she saw the note."Sharon, I thought you should see this. Page 8. So sorry for the otherday... I hope you can forgive me. Love, Alicia."With a heavy sigh she picked up the papers and brought them inside. Sheset the Times aside and opened the tabloid, the Sun-Tribune. Page Eight,it turned out, was the gossip page, and the offending photo caught hereye as soon as she turned the page.There she was, in her sunglasses and hat, holding Ty, with. She moved her body so her legs draped over the side of the bed. I knelt by the mattress and buried my face between her legs as she draped them over my back. I took my time eating her, savoring the texture of her flesh and the taste of her juices. From time to time I looked up; her eyes were closed and I knew she was locked in some fantasy while I tongued her. When her orgasm hit, she was strangely quiet and her eyes remained tightly closed. While eating her I felt my cock harden as it brushed. This wasn’t another print. It was an entirely new painting. The woman was the same, as well as I could remember. She was lying on her side more in this one, and she wasn’t as old as my fevered young brain had thought. Time plays that trick in viewing another’s age. The girls that seen mature when I’m twelve seen dreadfully young when I’m thirty-two. But it was her, no doubt about it. She was on the straw, a larger pile this time. The scene looked colder. The golden ray was gone, and the sky in. But I still didn't have a clue, and Petra took the lead all the way, until she got hurt in an accident. I realised then what she meant to me. I sat by the hospital bed and held her hand, and begged her not to leave me, and told her that I loved her. When she came round, she told me she dreamed I was calling her, she was walking away from me, but she turned round and came back, because I said I loved her.After that, well, I still was barely socialised, but she gave me confidence, and I learned.