How many fingers am I holding up?’ Her head tilts back and her laughter is strained and spiced with hunger. ‘Vin, that’s ALL of them. Did you grow an extra hand?’ Moving deliberately, he twists her hair in his hand, tilting her head back up. All teasing gone. He looms over her, taking her hand in his and guiding it to his cock straining at his pants. ‘That’s enough growth for me. How about you? Good enough?’ Her voice is soft and clear. ‘Take me home.’ He crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head ‘So no drinking, young lady?’ ‘It was ginger ale.’ ‘You’re of sound mind?’ ‘No. I’m afraid that’s not an option.’ ‘You’re of as sound mind as I’m ever going to get you?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘You’re not stupid enough to be suggesting I take you to your home and leave you there?’ ‘Anything but that.’ He envelops her in his arms and engulfs her in a hug, kissing the top of her head, they both stand in a peace that’s quiet and jangling at once. ‘Done.’ With that slight peace arranged, they walked to. My mom can really cook catfish, so this is something purely worth the effort.I don't know why, but on this particular day, I tried a different route to the fishing hole. There's a trail I never took before, and I always meant to try it out, but I never got around to it. Anyway, I started following the trail. It ran for about 75 yards and just petered out. Now, that doesn't make sense! I know that the fishing hole is just over a little hill, so I don't see any need to turn around to retrace my steps. I figured that I would just bull my way through the bushes, watching out for snakes and poison ivy.Well, I get about 10 feet into the brush and my ankle gets caught by a vine. No way to stop it, I fall flat on my face in the muck. Man, am I pissed! My clothes aren't all that clean, normally, but even I stop short at sporting dried mud all over my shirt and pants. Anyway, there I was, lying face down in the mud when something shiny catches my eye. It looks like a brass pot or urn, and it's.
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