Rolling over, she took Alan in her arms. She cradled his head against her chest, the tears now flowing freely. She rocked him back and forth and strok...d his hair.Soon, she was crying, too.Sleep claimed both of them not long later. They were restless all through the night.Marissa didn't sleep in again. She heard Alan in the shower. The water shut off and a few minutes later he came out. The curtains were drawn and the room was still dark. Alan dug through the armoire for some clothes. He hadn't. Her left boob was wonderfully soft and rounded, unblemished, no hint of a sag, a small, dark areola tipped with a stiff nipple that I wanted to lick, suck on, and love.There were scars -- patches, lines, seams and dimples where she'd been burned and torn -- all the way down her right side, to where the prosthetic's socket hugged her thigh. But they were incorporated, a part of the lush whole of vines, leaves and shoots. The spa's artists had transformed her scarred right breast it into a flower. Soon he tired of destruction. He tired of it’s ease. He reached out for an alternative. He was looking for something more than most of his kind reached for. He learned then to alter on the same level he had used to beginning his prior training. One thought passed into another, one memory was connected to another, and one emotion changed into another. He toyed with this concept for a while. He let these modifications on reality suit his drive for reason. He tinkered with modifications on this. Susan took the children with her for a long weekend, going south on Thursday afternoon, and due to return on the Tuesday following. Once again she stayed with Keith and Amy. It was crowded with the extra children but the children loved it. Susan spent the day on Friday with Harry and Lucy, and Amy brought the children along later for the evening meal.“You didn’t bring Mr Freeman,” said Lucy. “Was he busy?”“Perhaps next time,” said Susan avoiding an answer. It reminded her of her problem with.
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