“Thank you. Panties, next, please, that I may delight in the blended wine which flows from your ‘navel’!”Michelle stuck her tongue out at me and slipped off her panties.“Don’t stick that out unless you’re going to use it!” I grinned.“You first,” she giggled.“Don’t mind if I do!” I laughed, grabbing her around the waist and throwing her playfully onto the bed.Ten minutes later, she clutched handfuls of sheet, arched her back hard, and groaned loudly as a huge orgasm crashed over her.“Missed me, did you?” I chuckled.“All of you,” she gasped.I moved up and in one firm thrust buried myself in her warm, wet, and waiting folds. Michelle wrapped her arms around me and we began the dance we’d learned to do together very well, ending with a hard driving, grunting, gasping fuck that threw us both over the cliff into the depths of pleasure.“Yeah,” she sighed ten minutes later, “all of you.”I moved from atop her and we cuddled a bit, before she enthusiastically brought me off with her mouth,. ”“Okay... [pause]... ‘What city did you honeymoon in?’”“The answer is ‘Blue Balls, Pennsylvania, a suburb of HorseShit.’ By the way, I’m not married.”“I didn’t think so. The data sheet you completed when you signed on to the Contest says you were only 14 at the time. You’d be 15 now.”“So did you call me to chat or is there a purpose to all this? I have some studying to do.”“Oh ... yes. I was just ... nevermind. We hadn’t received any reply to the invitation to the Region 3 Finalist Reception yet. You did receive it, right?”“Oh that? I M.T.d it. Figured it for a scam and wasn’t going to go.”“It’s not a scam, I can assure you ... What does ‘M.T.d it’ mean?”“You don’t know M.T. huh? Sam Clemens – you know that was Mark Twain, right? A way-back author, you know? Wrote books? Tom Sawyer? M.T., right? Anyway. He got so much mail that he’d just pile it all on the corner of his desk. When the pile got so big, some of it would fall to the floor. He’d answer what fell, and throw out the rest.
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