“Wow, look at her!” Emily exclaimed with fascination. “Do you think these are real? Those gotta be like G- or H-cups at least.”“My guess: th...y're real. Just look at the natural-looking sag and how they bounce back and forth. Looks natural to me.”“Oh, lookie there. We got an expert over here,” was her playful reply to my inattentive statement. Hell, I was still talking to a girl, wasn't I? When had I become so comfortable around her? She sighed with an undertone of envy, “I wish I had tits like. Did you have a fellow student of that name?"Of course! Old Fergie! It must have been he who had pocketed the parchment. And he did hail from these parts. It was Ferguson who knew about the old legend and had kept his comrades entertained with tales of the awful doings of the Spirit of the Old Wood. On stormy winter nights his tales had gone down very well, as they supped old port and listened to Fergie's tales against the scary background of the rain beating upon the windows and the wind. More

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