A hollow, shelled husk of what I’d refer to as an airport. Maybe my friends still exist in some way. Maybe they exist beyond the weakening memories....Do they remember me? Am I just a weak, rough memory for their minds to ponder over, as well? Am I just a wilted, discarded husk in a long since abandoned airport? Sometimes I worry that I’ll never fly again. Sometimes I worry that the clouds will always waltz so high above me, their only contact being the occasional tears of pity they cry down on. ." I moaned at the welcome penetration, my eyelids fluttering as the poppers hit. "Ohhhhhh..." Much better," Brent grunted as his hips picked up speed and he settled into that familiar, pounding rhythm, his balls slapping my ass in a staccato 'thwap thwap thwap.' "Still tight but so nice. You fit me like a glove."He shifted his hips, switching his angle, and I cried out as he found my sweet spot and began to pound away with abandon. "Oh God! Oh God!" I moaned in pleasure, nearly out of my mind. More

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