One down and one to go.
Keep me posted.
Mother Debbie
(To be continued)
Comments, please, to Homer Vargas.
Jennifers Wraiths
The American woman who’d just entered the ballroom in the biggest hotel in Kampala, Uganda was stunning. A dramatic pour of dark velvet was lit by shimmering emerald sequin mirrors which seemed to be haloed by
anal queen of porn the subtle glow of her long brunette locks. That sparkle also brought out the mischievous green flecks in her gray eyes. Her gown was a glistening second skin suspended by the slimmest two straps, which barely held her stark plunging neckline in place. Every man in the room debated emitting a tiny puff of air at those straps to see if they’d still contain her bountiful cleavage after the fact. An off-center slit in the gown swept well up her thigh and made her look like perfection which had been gift wrapped for the holiday season.
Of course, the real New Year’s surprise for Desmond Kinfu Annan was in the fascinatingly familiar features of her face. “Oh my God, it’s Jennifer Delano. What is she doing back here?” Desmond’s eyes lit up with vivid aches of memories from not so long ago.
One of the most unexpected things to happen was the eager hug and delight in which Jennifer first saw him. “Desmond? It’s so
anal queen of porn good to see you!”
“Dance with me, Desmond.” Something swirled around Jennifer like a wisp of gray cloud. This strange phenomenon caught Desmond up inside of it every time they met. Of course, this time was no different. But what the hell was it?
At first he felt awkward, although apparently Jennifer didn’t, but when he took her hand and put his arm around her waist, she moved into his clasp and most of their awkwardness ceased. They danced slowly, not moving very far in any one direction. Since she wore four inch heels which matched her evening gown, Jennifer was tall enough that he felt her hips brush up against his every now and then. Her large, full breasts also found nice invitingly warm spots where they could nestle snuggly into his chest.
The solid reality of Desmond’s involuntary response to her pure femininity began to be rigidly distracting under the binding of his tuxedo. Obviously, Jennifer noticed that too. When the song ended, she held tightly onto him, holding him out on the dance floor until the music started up again. The odd cloud continued to surround them.
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