He reached around, flapping, until her found Darla Jean's bag and drew it atop them again, then reached for the zipper, but a hand forestalled him, "L...ave it -- we might need the room." Randall didn't argue; despite a concerted effort at concentration on sleeping bag organization, his hard-on was rampant in the face of full-body contact with a female. Darla Jean's lips settled on his neck and he went diamond hard, caressing her taut body and wishing he could get his hands into position to play. "Right now, nothing else matters," he sighed more to himself than to her.Attempting to shake the thoughts of her with her lover, her screaming out in a passion that he had never seen her have, he raised his head, "What you did to me the other night, and what you have been doing to me, is unforgivable. Maybe I am responsible in part for what happened, but that doesn't change the wrong that you've done."Turning back to her, his eyes now hard and bitter, "No matter what, you had no right to do me. More

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