Her brown pigtails danced around her face as she rushed over to me and beamed. She was such a daddy’s girl.“Hey, Junebug,” I said, deciding not ...o pry on what the sisters were fighting over.Dusk strolled after, adjusting her glasses. Her strawberry-blonde hair fell loose about her face, her skirt swishing. My wife followed after, petite and blonde, clutching her coffee in her hand with desperation. She looked tired.I felt tired. We’d been up all night fucking.And I was the only one who. You shall enter your new lives as women. Yet one emotion will remain. In your past lives you were so eager to screw others figuratively. That drive shall remain, but in a stronger and more literal meaning." Madame pointed at Whitley. "You who were H. James Whitley prided yourself on your great mind. That mind is of the past. Your intellect is far more limited, the mind of a child, given to pouts and fits of emotion, easily persuaded to do as others tell you, with an aggression now turned. More

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