Where are you sweetheart?In desert."Well, hell. That doesn't help me, woman!" His voice startled the zephti under him. He automatically reassured the ...nimal."I'm not mad at you, girl. Just frustrated with my wife."Charles shifted his bundle a bit closer to his chest. She was snoring softly. She was obviously tired. It had been two hours since they had the attack. He had gently rousted her every hour to make sure she was 'okay'. He had read somewhere that concussions were nothing to play around. "My prick started oozing. "Oh man, I love that woman," it panted."Oh," I said into the phone. "Okay then, go ahead, I'm all ears." Why are you panting?" she asked. "Are you having another asthma attack?" Just a tiny one," I said, trying to make the good feeling last, while feeling like a complete pervert for beating off to the sound of my non-girlfriend-who-I-was-non-the-less-in-love-with's voice. "I'll be okay in a minute." All right," she said. "I worry, but you know how to self treat your. More

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