Lush green hills rolled by outside my window. My face was in a blank stare, I stopped crying over foster families, I stop caring where I was, I would ...e an outsider wherever I went. The social worker's car smelled like old granny perfume, the fake leather seats were awkward and squeaked when I moved my left leg. The grouchy man looked at me and sighed, keeping a steady course on the straight road ahead of me, stroking what was left of his greying hair, muttering something about a miscreant. My. She does not know why he would decide to touch her stomach first, but she can feel the energy coming from him and feels empowered by it. She has never heard of this happening before, but then she guessed it would never be mentioned in the stories that were designed to make young Nymphs behave.He moves his hand up her body, touching her chest. He can feel her breathing get faster the closer to her chest he gets. He strokes first her left breast and then her right, noticing her breath getting. More

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