Like in life. Memories. The present, the future. Even fictional stories. They are killing me. I'm spending nights up, writing things so sad that I som...times cry, and then I look out and it's morning, the sun is rising, and I have to go to work. I work like a zombie. I fall asleep in my office, and only notice because the phone rings, someone enters, the computer makes a noise every now and them because I set it to. But I'm writing. All this time, when I'm talking to people, when I'm at one of. "It's nice, just enjoying it." She tweaked one nipple, enjoying watching it harden up. I sighed gently. "To the dare, then..." she said.She was tiptoeing down the hallway before I regained my senses. I followed her out the door, my breasts conspicuous in the hallway light. We snuck through my parent's room into the bathroom, both of us giggling. The massager is pretty heavy. She felt the weight of it as she looked at me awkwardly, flipped the switch to turn it on, experimented with opening her. More

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