Her eyes hard and bright in the mirror, her gaze unblinking, she traces each stripe in turn, glancing downwards from time to time as I try not to moan...at her touch.By the time she has traced her canvas, all of it, pain and pleasure have merged into one and I can no longer tell one from another.Her hand falls away.When she speaks her breath is hot in my ear and her voice a purr.“Kneel for me now, David.”I kneel as instructed, and as I lower my head, the swish of her skirt and the click of her. Johansson went on to tell me that my wife's heart was able to be given and transplanted to a mother of four kids whose husband was currently overseas serving in the Air Force. A woman came up with her four kids ranging in ages from 15 to 8. She was crying tears of joy and when she opened her shirt to show me the scar she had running down her chest more tears fell from my eyes and we hugged. Or at least I hugged, she sobbed and held onto me like I was her savior. I was offered a stethoscope and. More

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