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Followed, very quickly, by the rest of his body.I woke up in a room that I had never seen before. I was lying in an extraordinarily comfortable bed. That alone suggested I was no longer in the future. Wizen's bed had been cold and metallic. This was soft and plush. The rest of the room was equally plush. The walls were a painted a rich red. The floor was carpeted — carpeted! — with what appeared to be a thick blue pile. There were two ornate oak doors, one at each end of the room.For a minute I entertained the idea that perhaps I had died, and that heaven was actually a bordello. Sweet. But then I glanced to the corner and saw my flychair. I hadn't died after all. I summoned the flychair and was quite surprised to find myself completely free of pain. My left arm felt weak but moved freely. Even the tear on my shoulder had been repaired.As I climbed into the chair, one of the doors opened. She walked in with a radiant smile that I had also never seen before"Francesca!" Rick," she. From there I worked both to her breast bone, switching outward to her sides just above those wondrous set of breasts. Mind you, I was rather intimidated by them, hanging inches from my face, fearing that one accidental swing would smash my head in by mistake. Of course my worries were ill founded, for when I touched her about the middle of her sides, just above the abdomen, two little swirls caused her to arch her back, head lowering and her pulling me face first between those luscious mounds of flesh to smother to death. My hands shot downward and for some reason this set her off even more with a series of downward thrusts of her hips. Then I let my fingers do their exploring down on her womanhood; I expected to have a reaction like Samantha, soft and cooing or such. Nope, no such thing happened with Tabatha.Pulling me deeper into the valley between her breasts, that grip stronger than iron, her head came to rest on my shoulder. Her flesh felt incredibly warm, like fire brewing and.
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