He dragged themug down her backbone and when he came to her ass he tipped the mug and leta drizzle of ice-cold beer trickle down the crack of her ass....Her toes curled,making him laugh. He slipped a finger into her slit; she was wet, but not as wet as she couldbe. He stroked her clit, gently teasing it, not giving her the satisfactionhe knew she craved. He was going to draw this out. After all, she was his birthdaypresent, he should get to enjoy it. He finished his beer, held the mug upside down. Then she explained, "Well the Protectorate has the technology to do it, but I don't think that Dr. Winston has that sort of equipment with him."Michael thought on this for a few seconds. It was true that the refugees had not been able to bring much with them. It was unlikely that their medical facilities had anything but the basics. Then another thought occurred to him."Would Dr. Winston know how such equipment was made?" he asked.Cynthia shook her head. "I don't know. You would have to ask. More

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