It's sounds were meaningless. They always made sounds. Be they small, furry creatures, or large mostly hairless ones. They made sounds. Then they sank..."You ARE there ... right? I can ... I can see you. I think." The voice seemed to be calmer. The hand moved hair away from its eyes again. "Who are you? Did they throw you in here, too? God, what's going to happen to us? I don't want to die!"The sounds echoes on the curved stone wall, faintly bouncing back and forth. He liked the sound. It was .... As I adjusted to not driving, not squinting, and not being on the edge of panic, I began to notice our hostess. She was not quite the generic suburban woman I had first thought I'd seen; her hair was long and lustrous, her body full and interesting in a loose casual dress that showed considerable bust and legs. The more I studied her, and I could not help but study her, the more fascinated I became. The rise and fall of her breasts under her clothing was palpable, absorbing, erotic.I took my. " "Ok," she said cheerfully, and thought, "I do hate to let things go to waste. And my husband's always saying I should eat a bigger breakfast." Using her tongue she cleaned off his ballsack and softening cock, which started growing again as she ministered to it. She licked up his abs almost to his pects, doing her best impression of a dog and leaving long streaks of saliva as she eagerly cleaned off his body. Once he was clean she stood up and wiped her hand across her face, smearing a residue. Patrick, I don't know what to say," she whispered softly, so softly I had to strain to hear her. She placed her finger gently on my lips as I started to answer. I couldn't help trying to answer, but I knew it was the wrong thing to do. I knew she had to cleanse herself, to tear herself down mercilessly to the base and then, hopefully, start building up anew. I knew the best thing was to just listen, to let her get it out. I loved her so much, though, I just didn't know if I could sit here and.
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