His light eyes. His big hands….oh his hands. Jeanne spent every night at camp picturing Paul rubbing those giant hands over her hair, over her face ...nd back, across her breasts…squeezing her nipples and then slipping down to stroke her clit. Jeanne had only recently become fully cognizant of what her clit could fully do and now desperately wanted Paul to lick it. She’d had young men lick it before but they hadn’t been grown up and she was sure that his adult, well trained, beautiful tongue. There is color here, her arms outstretched, offering her embrace. I touch her hands, bringing them within my own… so beautiful, so perfect. She presses her lips against my forehead, the warmth penetrating my skin. Vanilla, lavender, her smell is a part of me. I stand slowly… looking left, than right… where is the door? Where is the bathroom? This house, so cold, so distant, the tiny hairs of my arms on end. Am I alone? Am I really alone? The hallway so long, so far to the washroom, so many. More

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