But you stop. You don’t follow the breadcrumbs or the white bird to the witch’s gingerbread cottage.”“You’ve got the tale mixed up, but you�...�ve made your point.”“OK. We’ll I’m going to start writing; you go marketing: several days of lunch and dinner tonight. Don’t overdo it!”“Yes, dear.”My phone rang, but a glance told me it was my father.“Hello.”“Hey! First of all, thanks for the dinner.”“Our pleasure.”“Second, I had a call earlier from Joshua.”“Joshua?”“Elder of the band I visited with at the. And who really cares if she even orgasimed. It wasn't about her it was me and my best buddy motherfucking.My story starts at 8pm in Elanes kitchen. Mom just poured two cups of herb tea for her and her grown son like she does every night after they have dinner. Tonight the tea will not only relax them both and help them digest their dinner, it will knock them both out cold for an hour OT two. When they wake up they will find them selves both tied to the kitchen chairs facing each other. Both of. More

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