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Back near the lake, he anchored a leaf to the rough surface of a big boulder near where they had bathed. After stepping off fifteen full steps back toward their campsite, he drew a line in the dirt with his boot.After loading one of the rocks into the pouch of his slingshot, he stretched the bands back into firing position, hesitated and let go.The projectile hit with a “splat,” a foot to the left and an inch or so high. Dessie chortled and teased him about having forgotten how to shoot a slingshot.“It slipped. I didn’t mean to let it go.” Still grumbling, he loaded the slingshot with another stone, drew back and immediately let the projectile go, seemingly without aiming. The little rock hit with another splat, but this time the leaf exploded with its remains falling to the ground.“Luck,” she said, laughing as she pushed him aside to take his place.“Hey, there’s plenty of room,” he mock indignantly complained.“I want to stand exactly where you were standing when I shoot, so I can. ”This is exactly what Emma does. She sits on the sofa watching Heather as she dances for her. Slowly the latex dress comes away leaving Heather wearing nothing but a latex thong and stilettos. She slowly turns for Emma, moving fluidly, rolling her hips seductively. As she turns to face Emma, she continues to roll her hips deliberately as she caresses her own breasts. She looks directly into Emma’s eyes as she fondles her soft breasts. When she looks at her more intensely, Emma yearns to have her hands fondling those lovely mounds herself.Heather struts forward suddenly, saucily crossing one foot in front of the other, hips swaying. She then crawls onto the sofa and straddles Emma’s waist. Emma groans as Heather runs a delicate finger alongside her face, down along her jaw. Her lips part when Heather gently strokes them with her finger, Emma’s tongue darts out to catch a sample of her flesh and she giggles in delight.Emma is amazed at her desire for the woman. She still likes men,.
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I must have stood there, staring at that ancient-looking jar, for ten or fifteen minutes. Finally, I reached out and picked it up. It was warm to the touch, and oddly heavy, as if it were filled with lead. I had brought the flint to chip away the hardened pitch - but I didn't need it. It was still soft, as if the jar had been sealed an hour before. I looked at the thing, and then, before I chickened out, I pulled at the stone plug. It came out easily - I don't know what I expected, but what happened then wasn't it. Light came out of the jar. Not beams or flashes of light, but light made solid. It curled and spiraled and turned in the air, like smoke - but it wasn't smoke. It was gold and white and moonlight-silver, with streaks and gleams of red and green and blue and purple. I replaced the jar and its plug on the marble block as the light began to draw into itself, growing more and more dense and solid over the stone. The shimmering light began to resolve itself into a shape, a.

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