Daisy had what are known in the trade as big melons. Not grotesque—just big. Firm, too. But soft. Big, soft hooters. The kind a man could drown in. ...nd she was wearing them on the outside, too."Just let me lay my big bosoms on you," she told Curtis. "They will take care of your problem."And she undid Curtis' trousers and slid them down. Undershorts, too. And there was his stiff little prick. Handsome, too. White shaft, dark red helmet. About 5 inches long. I was almost jealous. Mine would wear. “I’ll call her. You’ll see. She’s fine.”“Dave, she was positively ID’d. She had her bag with her, her driver’s license, plus,” I hesitated to tell him, but I pushed forward, “I saw her. It was Melissa.”“There must be a mistake,” he said, dropping back into the chair. I got up and poured him a glass of bourbon. He took it with trembling hands, stared at it, then downed it in one gulp.“You’re sure it was her?” he asked as I refilled his glass.“Yes.”“I can’t believe it. How?” Dave asked, “How did. More

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