Until he came to a group of photos. Where there would have been breasts, there was devastation in their absence, like strip mining devastating a mount...in. And the cavern pussies looked just as destroyed. Misshaped entrances. Dripping. Blood or sperm or tears. The breasts looked like mastectomies. The pussies, he didn’t figure out. Double exposure or manipulations of some kind. It didn’t matter. They were mesmerizing. Powerful. Memorable.He heard the two argue, and Maxine reassure her lover. “I. We finished up cooking the scrambled eggs and settled down to eat them. Watching my wife serve up the eggs I couldn’t help noticing how supple and full of grace every movement was. And most important of all was the large smile she had on her face because she knew this was the life she had always dreamed of. As we talked over breakfast, the conversation turned to the past as she remembered that turbulent year that spanned two Christmases. I could tell how she was hurting inside as she remembered. More

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