The sound of the wind blew softly through the trees, as though to caress and calm each fragile leaf. Closing his eyes, the deathly silence, broken onl... by the loving chorus of birdsong, calmed him. Wiping his now sodden cheeks, he turns to leave. Trudging his way up the grassy slope to the road, he pauses. A lone figure peering out from behind a mausoleum was staring directly at him. The figure, dressed in black, had his features covered by a low worn baseball cap. Desperately throwing his hand. "No tentative, creeping up on it," he'd informed us. Which some few of us had tried, and had failed at. It gave the girls far too much advanced warning as we soon after learned. Allowing them too much time to think about it before it happened, most then chickening out, or deciding in that brief moment it was either far too soon for that, or they simply weren't ready for it even if it wasn't. According to Jim "The God" of booby fondling, you simply lifted your hand and placed it directly over. More

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