Even the photographs were inadequate to seeing her inaction.She was tall, and graceful as a model. Even though she was dressedcasually, she looked lik... she'd stepped out of a catalog. Her make-upwas done with restraint. She looked elegant, even with her long,braided hair trailing over her back.The young woman was envious. Still, there was warmth in the smilethat had been directed her way; the impression, after only moments ofcontact, was of invitation and welcoming. It was like she was. I found myself back in the bathroom, the walls and floor sprayed with my release. The dream within a dream finished, I grabbed some tissue and cleaned up, thankful it had missed my pants. I pulled them up and went back into the living room to find the study doors still closed. I didn't hear anything, but I cautiously opened the door anyway. Sharon was on the couch, eyes closed, holding her breath as she worked the brush in and out of herself, fingers flying furious over her womanhood. The noise. More

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