She looks up at him.She feels her heart in her throat where is seems to beat and flutter wildly as she gazes upon the boy. He looks so peaceful in his...sleep, but even so and more than anything, she wants to move up into his arms and press her lips to his. She can never get enough of his mouth and tongue. It is as if it is the ambrosia of life beckoning her, even in this moment where she watches the rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps. The fingers of her hand gently move on his hip as her. That scrap book was a source of inspiration, the first thing he did with it was to scan it`s pages, page by page into his computer, that at least ensured the book from harm, as he would use the computer images for self-gratification, it was his way, the book confined to the top of the wardrobe till the next chance they would have together…next Wednesday…he dreamed of his aunt, for most of that night, occasionally checking the screen images and taking himself in hand, dragging himself up for. More

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