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”“Muri, did you even have sexual urges when you were a pterodactyl?” Miranda wanted to know.“Well, no. I don’t think so,” Murielle admitted. “But that night, when I changed back – when I was burning – I felt something that I wanted to feel more of...”“You’re a Phoenix, dummy,” Miranda chided her sister. “Death makes you horny.”“Well, maybe it does,” Murielle admitted as she got to her feet, “but I haven’t felt horny since before I got eaten and hatched out of an egg. So what does that make me now?”“Confused, I’d say,” Miranda chirped as she clambered up to follow her sister.They walked for a while, following the riverbank and looking for an easy place to cross. Then it occurred to Miranda that they could teleport across the river and save walking maybe dozens of miles.“I can’t,” Murielle informed her.“What do you mean – you can’t?” Miranda wanted to know.“You’ve noticed that we don’t merge together with our thoughts anymore?” Murielle explained. “There’s other stuff I can’t do. Carmine was, let's see, about eighteen when they came here to live. It was long after your mother had left for college and started her career. They had the clothes on their back and little else, so we hired them. We brought some of the furniture out of the attic that had been there when we bought the place and furnished the ranch house for them. We all grew very close. It was about a year after that when Carmine stopped speaking. Then, about a year later, Maria simply disappeared. One day she was here, smiling and happy, the next she had vanished. Naturally when she hadn't returned within a few hours, we called the police. There was an investigation, lots of theories, but none that ever panned out. When the police couldn't find her, Manuel became convinced that she had returned to Mexico for some reason. It didn't make sense because all her clothes and possessions were still here, but Manuel insisted he had to find her. He asked us to keep Carmine until he could find Maria, but about.
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’ ‘Well, we ain’t exactly locals, we’re from godless California.’ ‘Ya, but we’re white.’ Tommy opened the door for her and quickly stripped while she went into the stall and started the water. She stood there, arms at full length pressing against the wall, bent over a bit, big ass arched up, big boobs dangling down, with the water hitting her shoulders and running down into the crack of her ass. He grabbed the soap and walked towards her grinning, rock-hard before he had taken even two steps. He lathered her up and then washed her down like he would a prize racehorse, savoring every inch of soft flesh with his hands, scrubbing and caressing every familiar little curve and fold. For him it was a ritual labor of love, he assumed it was the same for her because she always wanted it, never complained and never rushed him. She moved a couple of times during the procedure, but she always kept her hands to herself and let him do whatever he wanted, for as long as he wanted, even though they.

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