Love is an idea; it is not real. Nothing we think orfeel--especially feel--is real.Only the moment is real. The now. The incident and the event are re...l,but only as long as they happen, for memories, also, are unreal.Very well. Let me explain. Perhaps an example will help. My breasts arereal when their weight is in my hands--or yours. They have density, then;they are tangible; they are measurable. Unmistakably, they haveexistence. But, after the moment, when they are no longer held, they. I had always noticed Eva's sweet scent for me when we were together, and I knew what she wanted for what seemed like a very long time. Her movements from underneath me made it quite clear that she wanted it. She took my hand and placed it over her chest, running it down to her soft breast. My hands explored the rest of her body, everywhere except for that special zone. As I got close to her pussy she let out soft little moans that she could not control. I pulled her shirt off of her to reveal. More

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