What did you bring for lunch?”“Sandwiches. Salami and Velveeta cheese spread.”“Not! What did you really bring?” she asked. “Have you ever ...one camping?”“Fried bologna sandwiches with sliced potatoes,” I said, pulling out cans of ice cold beer and soda.“Yuck! So have you ever gone camping?”“Yes.”“Will you take me camping?”“I don’t know.”Rachael grinned. “I’ll tell you what color panties I’m wearing if you say yes.”“White cotton boy-short style with small blue and red flowers.”Her eyes opened. I was very much out of my comfort zone, but somehow I remember enjoying the apparent thrill of being alone in a house with a relatively unknown woman.I showered, stared at myself in the full-length mirror, and felt refreshed. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I made my way back to my room. On the way, I slowed as I passed Jackie's bedroom door. It was partly open, and I dared to look in. Amazingly, in the mirrored wardrobe doors on the left, there was a reflection of Jackie sitting on a stool. Hot lips start to caress the top of her thighs, combined with the occasional flick of tongue and gentle nibble as my mouth explores the toned flesh. She is starting to moan quietly as the teasing tongue continues to work very close to, but never quite touching her pussy. She tries to push it into my face but I am always too quick for her, hampered as she is by bonds tying her hands and holding them above her head. Also, I can always use my hands, still placed as they are on her buttocks, to. I may as well have died too. The asshole drunk driver? He hardly suffered a scratch, and didn’t remember a thing. I was lost. I didn’t want to live any longer. One dreary Wednesday evening I was sitting at the dining room table writing my suicide note when my older brother burst into the kitchen. Scott was like Kramer from Seinfeld in that he never knocked before he would just come barging in. He lived in L.A. with his wife Monica, but he was in San Francisco that week on business so I had him.
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