Crying out as my strong hand connectsyou brace yourself and wonderwhat the next touch will bring.It matters not...Craving more you whimperand again my...hand smacks your assburning, stinging, hurting so sweetly.It matters not...You heave a sigh at my hand's sudden soft touchand then that same hand stings your flesh.Suddenly there is nothing else.It matters not...Because you wait.You wait for my touch and love me...The Ties That BindIn your time as the live-in Nanny to the family you have often. One lying opposite the other.Adam poked my arm as he pointed toward Connie and Nora sitting nearby on the lake bottom. Each had two of the kids standing beside them as they sat cross legged, Indian style.The kids wanted a ringside seat and they had one. Connie started singing a little song I’d learned when I was a kid.One little, two little, three little Indians. Four little, five little, six little Indians. Seven little, eight little, nine little Indians. Ten little Indian boys.”Ten little,. More

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