Perhaps it should be ‘The journal of Eleanor Risby.’ I believe that’s what people call them - not that I would know what others think. Ever sinc... I ceased working, I never mix. But, there I go again, wandering from the point. I must try hard to control myself and keep to the subject.I’ve never written a diary, even when I was a child. Mind you, nothing ever happened in my infancy, at least nothing worth writing about. When I was three my parents were killed in the car accident and from then I. You push me away and lower your knees and dress, suggesting that you’d love to lie down and have a massage. You stand and smooth your dress down, and I follow you back into the kitchen.I draw you into my arms. Our lips slowly begin to caress as our tongues begin to explore each others mouths. We kiss more passionately, rubbing and touching each other through our clothing. My hand gradually pulls your dress up and then works its way up your soft warm skin toward your pussy. You break our kiss. More

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