It was late afternoon before I was released to pedal my way homeward, Bessie's saddle marinating in my juices, the air stroking my totally exposed fle...h. A light supper, and later, prepping for Lance's arrival, I studied the results of all this cosseting in my mirror. The gawky freshman of four years ago had morphed into a woman of substance. I had filled out, my training adding muscle even as hormones shaped my femininity. My long legs were well-sculpted, my hips gently rounded. I didn't have. The problem was that I had no mercy on them when they gotso drunk that they passed out.On many occasions I used the opportunity to embarrass them in themost creative ways possible. These pranks would include anything frompainting moustaches on their face with felt tip markers, to gettingthem in compromising photos with strippers or what have you. I knewthat they had both plotted revenge many times but they were neverable to get me to pass out drunk before they did themselves. I alwayskept my. More

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