Each was affected by the surging of their own blood, the anger in their hearts, and the urge for some incomprehensible dream. How could they know what...fate had decreed for them?Brad Machin had a cosy flat not far from the beach and often came down for a morning swim. He was earlier than usual, tempted by the June sun from which the beach was in shadow until it rose higher. That very shadow would match the mood of gloom damned Rita had left him in. Not many mornings ago they’d been breakfasting. " My voice is soft and high andtight in my throat, a woman's voice. What a dream, what a perfectlybeautiful dream.My skin so soft and satin smooth. I push my hands down my flanks, eyesclosed again. Waist flares, a sensual layer of womanly fat has takenaway the angles of my old body. I sense the increased distance betweenmy hands as they go further down, over the panties's waistband, over myhips to where they flow into thighs. I have to bend slightly until myfingertips brush stocking tops. Mouth. More

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