It’s those that matter, what anchors us until the winds of hell pass.’ Michelle put a finger to his lips. ‘Words,’ she said, ‘we are full o... words, are we not? We who have no idea what tomorrow will bring. It is not words I need now.’ Their lips met, parted slowly. Tongues waltzed with deliberate intimacy while fingers unfastened, as if of their own instincts, buttons and zippers, belts and hooks. Michelle drew him to the bed. Bradley stretched over her. His eager cock glided through her. And some don't. This one was delicious.Welcome to the land of sweet tea.The walk around the inn's gardens relieved seat-butt tension.The shower was roomy and hot, the bed was well received, breakfast was southern style, and their hosts were unpretentious folks. No fancy and high priced chain hotel with moldy chinese wallboard and thin walls. The Claryville was built by craftsman and lovingly restored.They couldn't tear themselves away from the interesting history of the river.Riverboats hauling. More

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