A mess of pottage, a glass of wine, a game — and he travels on.He is going once, and going twice, He's going and almost gone.But the Master comes, a...d the foolish crowdnever can quite understandthe worth of a soul and the change that is wroughtby the touch of the Master's hand."The Touch of the Master's Hand" By Myra B. Brooks Welch (1877-1959)The young woman's voice echoed throughout the caverns beneath the cellars of the opera house, dwindling away into silence. She opened her eyes and found,. You know, flirt and all but not grabby, mostly because of the presence of the wives and girlfriends but also because, well, I really liked her, wanted this to be more than a one ball game date. Deb must have sensed my hesitation because she because she actually batted her eyelashes at me and took my hands in hers and gently pulled me against her. I could feel the heat of her body through that sheer silk dress. My cock just soared and I grasped her around the waist, pulled her tight and kissed. More

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