REAL INDIAN Fingerings

I sagged to my knees, my hands still clutching that railing. I felt ... wasted. Empty. Alone. I looked up at the sky, but I didn't really see anything... I didn't want to see anything. I felt ... impotent.It wasn't a good feeling.Calm. Relax. Quiet. The words scorched through my brain, but they had no meaning. They were just sounds, noises I had once heard.Calm Relax. Quiet. The words held no power over me. There was no center for me to find because there was no me. I had finally lost it. I was. I turned off his light then pulled back the covers and slipped into bed behind him, my robe tightly knotted around my waist. I wanted to hug him, to comfort him so I snuggled up to his back and ran my fingers through his hair again then kissed the nape of his neck and whispered that everything would be alright although I didn't have a clue exactly how that was going to happen. It felt good to be lying next to a sexually vibrant man and I was more than comfortable lying up next to his back. What. " Oh, look Danny," Ellen said excitedly, stopping and letting go of my arm so that she could point, "wild flowers. Just like we'd pick for Mom when we used to walk here."And she left me standing there as she ran straight into the sunny meadow filled with yellow, white and purple flowers all swaying, with the tall grass, in the warm, summer breeze.I watched her sexy ass wiggle as she ran in that odd, marionette-like manner that women do."Come on," she yelled as she reached the flowers and got. Questions regarding how he managed to perform his duties at all later led to him losing his various disabilities and simply being a recluse who had never left the building, then a horribly scarred recluse. Then a horribly scarred recluse with webbed fingers and toes, and a habit of spying on amorous couples through tiny pinholes in the walls while masturbating himself with sandpaper. It is said that on a still night, if you listen carefully, you can still hear the shrill cries of him shredding.
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