‘You aren’t still mad, are you?’ he whispered, thrusting his tongue into her ear, continuing his gentle massage of her breasts and nipples. ‘Y...u don’t want me to stop, do you?’ Helen’s hands covered Bobby’s, pressing them tighter against her breasts. ‘I…I should make you stop,’ she murmured. She couldn’t resist him. ‘What…what you did…yesterday…it…it wasn’t nice at all.’ ‘You like it when I do this, don’t you?’ Bobby whispered. ‘You like it a lot.’ ‘God!’ Helen groaned, her bottom pressing. The kids always like making smores, which is a combination of Graham crackers, melted marshmallows and chocolate bars. Mom or my wife would make hot chocolate or we would have hot cider.It was in the fall around Halloween, we would sit around the campfire and take turns telling stories. A lot were about ghosts and goblins. Others were stories about going to the cemetery and how the dead would rise and come after us. A lot of horror stories were told, each person trying to gross out everyone. More

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