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" As you wish, mighty one." The old man grinned as his worker headed out with the CD in his hand. He took off downtown where he used his own magic to make the streetlights change and allow him to cross without waiting. The drivers who had just seen the lights change couldn't understand how it changed like magic. Taking off along Old Lake Road, Ricky saw a sign pitched in the dirt near the lake's water. "This must be it." SENSATIONAL SWIMWEAR 1 MILEFollowing the dirt road toward the pointed towers spawning from the treetops, Ricky saw a old building that had seen better days. The one beautiful garden was now dead and dried out. The porch was sadly in need of a paint job and the boards a repair job. "Who would live here?"As Ricky approached the door, it creaked open by itself. "I wonder if this is one of the masters rivals like the owner of Bikini Beach or The Magic Depot. If that is the case, then someone will truly suffer The Wizard's revenge." Hello!" Ricky called out as the CD flew. "You know how to use that tongue and your lips too. How could I not love that about you?" She seized my wrists and brought my hands over to her melons. "You wanna fuck my nipples too? Pinch them for me and make me wanna cum all over your face." I did indeed bring my fingers on each side of her nipples. "Oh, that's the motherfucking spot. This is how you get me off, in the kinky ways your bitch boss never gets to hear about!" she yelled, scraping my head. She spread her legs out as far as she could and shook around too. I managed to keep my tongue inside her slit, despite how much she vibrated and scrubbed my head. I couldn't see her eyes, but I knew what face she had. "Come up here," she told me, pulling my head up. "I wanna taste my juice off your lips," she mentioned, before kissing me. We made out for a moment as we both placed our hands onto each other's thighs. As our make out session progressed, we moved closer to each other. After that moment, her lips came off mine. "Fuck.
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I dunno, but I did what I could to calm her, which meant doing what she said, promising to write and telling her how much I would miss her. Nearly thirty years later, I still wonder how she sc****d-up the money for that bus ticket. Anyway, I got on the half-full bus and rode south out of St. Louis that evening with my poor mom on my mind, a backpack on my lap, and a window seat. About ninety minutes into my trip, the driver announced we would be stopping at the Poplar Bluff bus station. I closed my old dog-eared copy of The Fellowship of the Rings and looked out my window. I had never been to Poplar Bluff, and what I saw of it through my window didn’t imprint much on my memory – a small quiet town on the banks of the Ole Miss. The driver announced we could depart the bus, but it would be pulling out forty-five minutes later. The bus station was much smaller than St Louis’ was; it seemed older too. When I stepped from the bus with my back-pack slung over my shoulder, the driver.

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