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” There is a slight hesitation mixed with a sigh. My own heart begins to pound... clit begins to throb. “You’d feel exactly what my fingers are feeling right this second...”As that last word leaves her lips, I reach forward to wipe a streak of fog off the mirror. The towel fold presses into the edge of the sink, pushing it against my heat. I watch my pupils dilate as her words, laced with moans, flow through the line. “I’d let your hand break free from mine as I push up to cradle my tits,” she continues, “Your fingers would slither across my silky skin, coming to rest on something freshly shaved.” There’s another slight splash of water, the sound of a hand stroking through it. “And what would my fingers do when they reached their destination?” I know damn well that they’d do, but I want to hear her say it. I need to know it’s in her head too. I grip the side of the sink and unknowingly rock my hips against the ceramic, waiting for her answer. “They would be free to do whatever they. She had known this day was coming that day two years ago when Rose had come home from college bringing a boyfriend with the same last name.July 5, 1998, 11:15amThe twins, Frank and Francine took their first communion as their proud parents Rose and Jeff and their proud godmother Francine looked on. The twins called Francine "Aunt" Gidget. At age 30, Rose had come from the coltishness of youth to a mature beauty and grace; Jeff and the twins adored her, as did her many friends. As a teacher of English at Oakton Community College, she was a positive influence on her students and well respected by her colleagues. Unknown to her, of course, she was fast becoming the female equivalent of Russ Lawrence. Gidget could see it. At age 46, Gidget herself was still quite attractive. Everyone wondered why she had never married. She lived with her cat, Jez, in an apartment in Lincoln Park, with a view of Belmont Harbor through her front window. She visited Jeff, Rose and the twins several times a.
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And I have no remembrance of ever being called John. Although now that I think about it, I don't recall ever being called anything else either. The last thing I remember is...being here with you. There’s nothing else.”She looked into his eyes. "John, you can hear me, can't you? This is real, isn't it?"He nodded, but his expression was blank. "Maybe if you explain more I’ll remember?"She smiled. "Well, darling, you've been...gone. For some time. Five years. But now you're home again." I see.”“Oh, but you must be freezing in those rags! Here, put these on. They're yours, I saved them." She handed him a bundle of clothes. He seemed fascinated by the workings of the buttons and laces as he dressed. "Just as handsome as ever," she said when he was done. He smiled like a child.She led him into the house. Every other step she looked back at him, smiling. "It's no wonder you can't remember, you've been through so much. It will all come back to you soon, darling, you'll see." I'm sure it.

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