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From: Lazlo Zalezac <lzalezac@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Harry and Silva 04 (MF, magic)
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Date: Thu, 24 Feb 2005 00:10:03 -0500
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=====
Lazlo Zalezac
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Lazlo_Zalezac
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Lazlo_Zalezac


		
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<1st attachment, "harry-silva-04.txt" begin>

JC: Harry and Silva
Chapter 4
By
Lazlo Zalezac
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2004

Silvia screamed as her second orgasm ripped through her body. 
The big man licking her pussy was driving her to a level of sexual 
pleasure that she had never imagined possible. For the past hour, 
he had done things to her that shook her to her very foundations. 
She'd never made out with a man before. Who knew that a half an 
hour of kissing could be so nice? She hadn't. Who knew that 
having your breast stroked could induce an orgasm? She hadn't. 
His talented tongue suddenly flicked up and teased her clit for a 
half a second. She screamed, "I'm boiling over!"

Cook was busy lapping up her steamy hot juices, amazed at how 
much she was able to produce. Sweet as sugar, he was in heaven. 
His cock, hard as a rock, was screaming to be sheathed in her hot 
tunnel. He ignored the demands of his cock, enjoying the feel of 
the woman writhing under the assault of his tongue. 

"Fuck me! Fuck me now!" screamed Silvia shocking herself with 
her desires and her language. She hadn't ever talked like that even 
when she was selling her body on the street. Her body needed 
filling and it needed it right that moment.

Relenting, Cook moved up and positioned his cock at her entrance. 
She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him into her. The 
cock slipped into her drenched passage easier than she imagined 
possible. Her voice rung through the room as she screamed, "Oh, 
yeah."

The wild woman writhing underneath him was driving him crazy. 
He lost control and allowed the needs of his body to take over. His 
pace picked up as he thrust into her body. Wrapping his arms 
around her, he wanted to completely possess her. She wrapped her 
arms around his back and directed his thrusts to an even faster pace 
with her legs. She wanted to wrap herself around him, enveloping 
him with her entire body, not just her hot pussy. Her screams 
stopped being of words, just animal sounds as waves of orgasmic 
pleasure washed over her. His noises had turned just as animalistic. 

It felt like his balls had pulled up into his body when he finally 
came. It wasn't a groan that announced his orgasm. It was primal 
scream that tore loose from his soul announcing that he had given 
himself to her heart and soul. It was too much for Silvia. She lost 
consciousness after her final orgasm that his roar had triggered.

A ringing of the telephone woke Silvia. Groggy, she reached over 
and answered it. Her voice, hoarse from her cries of passion, broke 
as she said, "Hello."

"Hey, Silvia. What are you doing there?" Carla's cheerful voice 
over the phone helped her wake. 

She looked over at the strong body of the black man in bed beside 
her for a second before answering. His soft snores struck her as 
endearing. Confused, she asked, "What time is it?"

"Four. You were supposed to be over here a half an hour ago for 
Thanksgiving Dinner," replied the young woman with a sudden 
trace of concern in her voice.

"Oh," answered Silvia as her mind tried to establish a plan. She 
asked, "I had an unexpected guest and lost track of the time. Do 
you mind if I bring someone over with me?"

"No problem. We have a nice little turkey that will feed a dozen 
people." Carla wondered about the identity of the unexpected 
visitor. She grinned as she realized that it might be Harry. The 
thought that Silvia might have gotten laid by the old Druid made 
her smile.

"Okay, we'll be over there in half an hour. I'm so sorry about this."

"No problem. That's just enough time for Tim and me to get in a 
quickie. We'll see you then," replied Carla.

Silva hung up and looked over at Cook marveling at the physique 
of the man. Her entire body was still tingling from the earlier 
activities and looking at him intensified the feelings. Leaning over, 
she kissed his neck and ran a hand over his strong back wishing he 
would turn over so that she could see the cock that had finally 
given her sexual pleasure. Her touch woke him. Blushing at having 
fallen asleep after sex, Cook said, "Sorry. I try not to do that."

"Do what?" asked Silvia with concern that he was going to dump 
her now.

"Fall asleep afterwards," answered Cook. His eyes wandered over 
her body as his desire for her returned.

"After being awake for more than twenty four hours? You've got to 
be kidding," retorted Silvia with a chuckle. She was amazed that 
she had been able to wake him after so little sleep. 

"I guess," replied Cook in his deep voice as his hand reached out to 
stroke her body. All he wanted was to continue touching her.

"A couple invited me over for Thanksgiving Dinner. They are 
expecting us in about twenty minutes," said Silvia as a shudder of 
excitement raced through her body. His hands really knew how to 
touch her. She didn't want to leave. 

A deep frown crossed Cook's face at the news. He didn't eat food 
cooked by other people. Although the situation had not arisen in 
years, he didn't like people he cared about to eat food cooked by 
anyone other than him. His stomach clenched at the thought of 
watching Silvia eat food cooked by someone else. He felt as if he 
were going to get ill. Suppressing the desire to throw up, he said, "I 
don't think that is a good idea."

His refusal surprised her and she said, "I'm sure that you'll get 
along with them. They are my best friends."

"It's not that," replied Cook. He struggled to come to some sort of 
compromise. After a minute of tension filled silence he said, "I'll 
go, but I have to leave during the meal and come back when you 
are finished."

Silvia had enough experience to realize that there was something 
else going on here, but that he wasn't ready to talk about it. If she 
wanted him to go with her, she would have to accept his terms. She 
would find some way to explain his absence during the meal. 
Nodding, she said, "That would be okay. I don't think they'll 
mind."

Having established that he was going to go with her, it was time to 
get dressed. Silvia, lying in the bed, realized that she was 
embarrassed to get out of the bed. Cook looked just as uncertain 
about standing up naked. A minute of awkward silence passed and 
then she started to giggle as the irony of the situation dawned on 
her. He started chuckling and then they both broke out in 
sidesplitting laughter. 

It took them a few minutes to collect themselves enough to start 
getting dressed. They would slip a piece of clothing on and then 
laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. For Silvia, getting 
dressed after sex was usually done without any concerns or care 
about her john, but Cook was no john. She didn't know if she was 
supposed to look sexy or as if it was just an everyday kind of thing. 

It amazed her how little she understood about relations between 
men and women, despite the fact that most of her life had been 
spent as a prostitute. Prostitute? Since when did she start 
considering her past in such high sounding terms? The thoughts 
running through her mind were just as confusing to her as the sex 
had been.

Once he was dressed, Cook apologized, "I'm sorry that I don't have 
other clothes to wear to visit your friends."

Silvia looked him over. He looked handsome in his Chef's outfit. 
The most amazing thing was that after working in a kitchen for so 
many hours, it was still spotless. Smiling at him, she said, "They'll 
understand."

"I guess we had better go," he said wondering how far the people 
lived from her dorm room. He asked, "How long will it take us to 
get there?"

"About five minutes. They live in the couples dormitory across the 
mall," answered Silvia as she opened the door of her room. Cook 
took her hand as he stepped out of the dorm room with her. The 
action took her by surprise and she almost forgot to close the door 
behind them. Together, hand in hand, they walked down the 
hallway. Silvia was blushing lightly, unused to such attention. Who 
knew that holding hands was so nice?

Tim opened the door and rolled back to let Sylvia and her date into 
the dorm room. As Silvia stepped in the room, Carla examined her 
friend from across the room. One look was enough to know that 
her friend had just gotten out of bed. She screamed, "My God, girl. 
You look like you just had the best sex of your life."

Covering her mouth with her hand, Silvia froze in place blushing. 
Cook had entered the room just in time to hear Carla's 
pronouncement and looked around as if caught with his hand in a 
cookie jar. Tim was beaming up at the large black man standing 
behind Silvia and extended his hand as he said, "Congratulations. 
She's needed that for a long time."

Cook didn't know what to say or do. Finally, he shook hands with 
Tim as he introduced himself. "I'm Cook."

Tim swiveled around in his wheelchair to move behind Silvia. He 
grinned and said, "I'm Tim. Pleased to meet you. Come on in and 
make yourself comfortable."

Silvia had not told him that the people they were going to visit 
were handicapped. That didn't bother him, but it was a surprise. He 
hoped that it didn't show on his face. Recovering his composure, 
Cook replied, "I'm pleased to meet you. Silvia said that you were 
her best friends."

Shifting from foot to foot, Cook felt trapped. Silvia had frozen in 
place, the wheelchair was blocking entrance into the dorm room, 
and Carla was barreling down on Silvia in her wheelchair. The 
woman in the wheelchair had paused when she heard Cook speak. 
In her typical embarrassing manner, she cooed, "Oh my. That 
voice is so sexy. I hope you'll read poetry to me while Tim is 
jumping my bones."

The joke woke Silvia from the paralysis that had resulted from 
Carla's first comment. She rushed over to Carla and, in a voice 
much louder than intended, said, "I know. I get wet every time he 
talks to me."

Laughing at his wife's behavior, Tim turned his chair to face Cook 
and joked, "I guess that Silvia didn't tell you to bring your own 
chair."

For a brief moment, Cook had believed the joke before realizing 
that Tim was kidding about the fact that he was confined to a 
wheelchair. He replied, "Nah. I just figured I'd sit in her chair and 
let her sit on my lap."

"Don't say things like that in front of my sex-crazed wife. She'll be 
offering all kinds of seating advice to you." Winking at Cook, Tim 
pushed the wheels of his chair and maneuvered with practiced ease 
around the pair of women occupying the center of the room. 

Laughing, Cook followed him while looking around the dorm 
room. He'd never been in a couple's dorm and was surprised to see 
a small kitchen, a bedroom, and a nice living room. The small 
room was immaculate. He realized that it would have to be neat 
and tidy if you were locked in a wheelchair. Clutter on the floor 
would make it impossible to move around the small area. 

The odor of food cooking assaulted Cook's nose making him feel a 
little ill. The double amputee led him to the kitchen. With great 
trepidation, Cook followed him into the room wondering if he 
would be able to keep control over his stomach. He dreaded what 
he would find in there. 

Tim went over to the sink and washed his hands. Grabbing a pair 
of pads, he turned the wheel chair using the pads and went over to 
the oven. Noticing the intense stare Cook was giving the pads, he 
explained, "I find that cooking is one of the hardest things to do 
when you are trapped in a wheelchair. I have to use these pads to 
move around because I don't want to get my hands dirty. Still, I 
end up spending as much time washing my hands as I do cooking."

Cook watched as the man went about checking on the progress of 
the food. He was amazed that the man was as clean conscious as 
him. He volunteered, "I insist on a clean kitchen."

"Same here. When I was first on my own after loosing the legs, I 
was cooking one day and realized that I had gotten something 
disgusting on my hands. I spent the next hour in the toilet being 
sick at the though of eating that food. Since then, this kitchen is the 
cleanest room in the house." Tim wasn't going to explain what he 
had found on his hands out of consideration for the guest. The way 
he often explained it was that moving the wheelchair was like 
touching the bottom of your shoe. Most people found the idea of 
touching the soles of their shoes after every step a disgusting 
image when it came to preparing a meal.

Tim had touched upon something that was important to Cook 
without realizing it. Cook relaxed a little as he watched the man 
work in the oven. It pleased him to see the care the guy took with 
the food. When Tim rolled over to the refrigerator to get food, he 
examined every item with the same due diligence that Cook put 
into it. The large black man smiled as he realized that Tim cooked 
with the same care as he. He felt that he might be able to eat here.

"Let me check on Silvia," said Cook as he glanced into the living 
room. The two women were huddled over and talking with the 
kind of intimacy with which women were so comfortable. The 
young woman in the wheelchair smiled, giggled, and touched 
Silvia with natural ease. 

He wandered over to the pair of women, getting noticed by Silvia. 
The black woman smiled and greeted him, "Hello. I'm sorry that I 
didn't introduce you when we came in. This is my best friend, 
Carla. Carla, this hunk is Cook."

Carla, with a definite expression of sexual interest, looked him 
over. As she made a fanning motion as if she was cooling herself 
off, she said, "Silvia definitely picked the right one." 

"Nice to meet you, Carla."

Carla moved her mouth without saying anything, but the 
movements suggested she was complementing his voice and the 
effect it had on her. She rolled her eyes and placed her hand 
between her breasts. Laughing at the antics of her friend, Silvia 
said, "Don't mind her. She's a sex fiend."

"Oh." Confused, Cook looked over at Carla wondering how a 
paralyzed woman could be a sex fiend. He could understand how 
Tim would still want an active sex life. Even though the man had 
lost his legs, he hadn't lost feeling below the waist and still had a 
cock and balls. He decided that her interest was primarily 
intellectual. 

"If you call having to get my hands on Tim's cock four times a day 
being a sex fiend, then I'm guilty as charged. I just think it's 
natural." Carla replied with a shrug.

"Four times a day? No wonder Tim can't walk," replied Silvia with 
a grin. 

As Carla laughed at the joke, she said, "I'm going to have to tell 
Tim that."

Cook stood watching the exchange between the two women. He 
was very puzzled by Carla and couldn't tell if she was joking or 
not. He didn't know if Silvia had told their hosts that he wouldn't 
be eating with them, but he realized that he could probably manage 
it now that he knew Tim took proper care to make sure that 
everything was clean. Bending down, he whispered in the ear of 
Silvia, "I'll stay for dinner."

Surprised by his statement, Silvia looked at him with concern. She 
didn't know what had happened to change his mind about eating 
there, but she could tell that it was a significant step for him. 
Smiling, she said, "Why don't you talk with Carla for a bit while I 
chat with Tim?"

"Sure." 

Silvia stood and started to walk away. After a few steps, she 
stopped and turned to Carla. With a grin, she said, "He can talk 
dirty to you, but you can't touch him."

Carla laughed and made a gesture as if she were going to spend the 
time touching herself. She watched as Silvia went into the kitchen. 
Turning to Cook, she suddenly got very serious and said, "It's nice 
to see her this happy."

"She hasn't been happy?" asked Cook not really knowing that 
much about the woman he had made love with earlier. 

"No. I've known her ever since she came here and this is the first 
time that I've seen that swing in her walk."

Five years of serving in the Fusion Foundation had given Cook a 
lot of experience in watching people put their lives back together. 
It had taken him a year to get his life back together enough to 
function after Harry had brought him there. It was rude to pry into 
the past, but one listened and put the pieces together to fill in the 
background. He had a few facts already. She was a supervisor and 
that meant that the psych-staff had decided that she was 
emotionally sound enough to lead people that were often very 
weak. He said, "It couldn't have been too bad. She's a supervisor."

"I know that our friendship has been hard on her. Tim and I really 
have had a great sex life ever since Harry showed me that making 
love and experiencing orgasms were possible despite the fact that 
I'm paralyzed from the waist down. Sometimes we get a little 
carried away and it hurts her tremendously."

The simple statement that Harry had taught her that she could have 
sex convinced Cook that she really was having sex. The idea was a 
great revelation for him. He could imagine how important it was to 
know that one could experience one of the greatest joys of life. As 
sounds of laughter came of the kitchen, he asked, "Harry?"

"Yes, Happy Harry."

The old bum, as Cook liked to think of him, was everywhere. 
Harry had found him passed out in a puddle of his own piss and, 
with great difficulty, had sobered him up for the first time in two 
years. After traveling with Harry for another month, they had come 
here. Harry had gone on, but he had stayed. Shaking his head, he 
said, "Harry sure does get around."

"Silvia was brought in by Harry. Her mouth was wired shut for the 
first year here, but she never talks about how she ended up coming 
here. All I know for a fact is that until today she has never 
expressed an interest in sex. In fact, she acted like she hated the 
idea. I was hoping that Harry would sleep with her last night and 
wake her desires." She smiled at Cook and then said, "I guess that 
wasn't necessary."

The entire time she had talked to Cook, Carla had watched the 
kitchen to make sure that her friend was staying there. The laughter 
coming from the room was a good sign and suggested that Silvia 
would stay in the kitchen until the food was ready. There were 
some visits when Silvia was much quieter, acting more like an 
imposition than an intimate friend.

"Harry threw the two of us together without warning either one of 
us," Cook chuckled as he thought about the sly old man. No 
wonder the guy had made sure that he wasn't around the previous 
night.  

"So when are you two getting married?"

Cook nearly choked at the question. "Why?"

"I want to know when we can start swinging," replied Carla with a 
mischievous grin and a wink. 

There was no doubt the woman was obsessed with sex like no one 
he had ever met before. He was laughing too hard to reply and it 
took him a minute to regain control. He turned towards the kitchen 
and shouted, "Silvia, help! She's talking dirty to me."

"That just means she's talking. The time to worry is when she stops 
talking and starts acting." The male voice of Tim echoed back 
from the kitchen.

With a grin on her face, Silvia looked out the door and saw that he 
was laughing at the comment. It pleased her that Cook was getting 
along with her friends and was comfortable with their risque banter 
enough to join in. He winked at her with a smile.

Carla laughed and called back, "Honey, I'm getting horny. Oops, I 
meant hungry. How much longer before the food is ready?"

"It's ready. Just wanting for the sitting-impaired person to set the 
food on the table."

Chuckling as he stood up, Cook went over to Silvia and helped her 
carry the food to the table. They worked together with the kind of 
comfortable movements that suggested a much longer relationship 
than existed in reality. There were times when one or the other 
took a moment to examine the other. When one of them caught the 
other looking, the one caught would try to act innocent. 

Finally, the table was set with a simple turkey dinner. It was a fine 
little bird with all of the appropriate side dishes - stuffing, mashed 
potatoes, corn, hot rolls, cranberries, and a platter of sliced 
vegetables. Cook was impressed once all of the food was set out on 
the table. Tim and Carla rolled over in their chairs and took two 
spots at the table where no chairs were located. 

As Cook pulled out the chair for Silvia to sit down on, Carla 
commented, "Tim. How come you don't ever pull my chair out for 
me?"

"Because I'm an ill-mannered brute," answered Tim without 
hesitation. Jokes about being confined to a wheelchair had become 
common in this household. Both of them had appreciated Harry 
calling it a silver throne. 

Pouting, Carla replied, "If you were really a brute, you'd be 
ravishing me all the time."

Chuckling at the exchange, Cook sat down at the last seat at the 
table amazed at the continued focus of the paralyzed woman on 
sex. Silvia said, "Now Carla, even brutes require some rest."

Once everyone was seated, Tim looked around at the people 
gathered at the table. It was time for a word of thanks for all the 
good things that happened to them over the past year. Tim said, 
"On this Thanksgiving Day we would like to thank the Gods and 
Goddesses for the blessing they have provided us in the form of 
Happy Harry."

The food flowed from serving dishes to individual plates and then 
to empty stomachs. Fun conversation made of lighthearted teasing, 
insights, exchanges of philosophy, and personal information 
improved the process of eating. Time passed easily, with Silvia and 
Cook learning more about each other.

They were almost done with the meal when Silvia asked, "What 
changed your mind about eating here?"

A sudden silence descended upon the group. Carla and Tim had 
not been aware the Cook had not intended to eat the meal with 
them. The large black man looked around the table and realized 
that he would have to answer. Not for their sake, but for his. 
Taking a sip of water, he said, "I was married at one time to a 
beautiful woman who I loved with all of my heart. Things in our 
marriage had progressed to the point where we were expecting a 
child. The whole future was looking glorious as we were preparing 
a nursery for the child. Things fell apart the night we had dinner at 
my sister-in-law's house."

Silvia had not expected an answer that exposed so much of his 
past. She had thought that he would say that the food looked good 
or something. Tension, born of the expectation of tragedy, filled 
the air. Her hand moved across the table and covered his in 
support. 

Staring at an empty spot on the table, Cook said, "The meal looked 
good, but it tasted horrible. My wife and I had eaten it, thinking 
that it was just a strange choice of spices that made it taste so bad. 
We didn't want to upset her sister by commenting on the taste of 
the meal."

"The home-canned tomato sauce had been spoiled. It was a few 
days later that I woke in a hospital and learned that my wife and 
unborn child had died of food poisoning. Over the course of one 
meal, I had lost everything that I cared about." More than one pair 
of eyes were misty when Cook stopped explaining, not wanting to 
cover how he had left the hospital and never returned to his house. 
The following years had been spent wandering the streets, drinking 
to the point of passing out and eating the worst food that he could 
find in the hope that he would join his wife.

Silvia, feeling his pain, moaned, "Oh, that's horrible."

Carla looked at Tim wondering how she would survive if she were 
to lose him like that. Tim nodded, understanding what had changed 
Cook's intention not to eat with them. He had seen the care that he 
took with the food to make sure that everything was clean, the 
ingredients fresh, and all had been cooked to the proper levels of 
doneness. 

Cook was lost in his memories recalling the day when his life had 
turned around. He had been passed out on the streets when this 
weird bum wearing a green robe had taken care of him. Once he 
had regained consciousness, the guy had handed him a gun and put 
it into his mouth. Without pity, Harry had told him to pull the 
trigger if he was really all that interested in dying without having 
accomplished a single good thing in his life. 

Unable to believe that anyone had such a hard-heart, Cook was on 
the verge of pulling the trigger when Harry had told him there was 
an alternative. He had listened as Harry told how many people on 
the street died of bad food and no one cared enough about them to 
make sure that they always had a choice for a good meal. He 
became Harry's cook that afternoon.

Cook said, "I started cooking for others to prevent them from ever 
getting sick from bad food since then. I don't trust anyone in the 
kitchen except me. I don't really know why he does, but I saw Tim 
take exactly the same care with food that I do."

As a man who for years thought that he wouldn't be able to protect 
those that he loved because he was locked in a wheelchair, Tim 
understood far more than the black man had explained. Carla 
turned to Silvia and, with an emotional tremor in her voice, said, 
"This guy is a real keeper."

"Yeah, he is, isn't he?" replied Silvia as she looked at the man 
seated to her right. His insistence on cleanliness within the kitchen 
made sense. It wasn't the actions of a man with an obsessive-
compulsive disorder, but the diligence of a man protecting others 
from a most insidious threat. 

The conversation slowly returned to lighter topics, but it was soon 
clear that Cook was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion. 
The short nap after the mad passionate episode with Silvia wasn't 
enough to recharge his batteries. Amidst teasing by Carla about 
how Silvia would let him get to bed but wouldn't let him sleep, the 
newly formed couple returned to Silvia's dorm room. 

It was a small gathering of a few close friends. The bride wore 
white despite feeling that it took an active imagination to justify it 
and that it if anyone challenged it then the hell with them. She was 
happier than she had ever expected in her hard life. The groom 
wore a simple dark blue suit, feeling uncomfortable in the usual 
clothes. Like many grooms, everything around him seemed to be 
passing in a haze. 

Carla, wearing an attractive green dress, sat beside Silvia in the 
age-old position of Maid of Honor. Tim, dressed in a dark suit with 
the trouser legs folded neatly underneath him, sat beside Cook 
fulfilling his role as Best Man. The broad open grins on the faces 
of the Maid of Honor and Best Man suggested that they were 
enjoying this ceremony immensely. The ever-talkative Carla was 
having difficulties keeping from making jokes throughout the 
ceremony. 

The witnesses of the ceremony were the mangers for whom Silvia 
and Cook worked. The managers were enjoying this, as it was one 
of the few times when everyone involved could relax. This was a 
joyful occasion and one made better by the improvements that the 
couple had shown in their professional lives. Both managers were 
sure that Silvia and Cook would soon be promoted. 

The individual leading the service was a local judge who donated 
his time for this purpose. Few people knew that he had gone 
through the rank and file of a Fusion Foundation Emergency Relief 
Team before getting his life together enough to earn a law degree. 
Nothing in his life gave him more pleasure than watching others 
get their lives together enough to make personal commitments to 
others around him. More often than not, he would retire alone after 
the ceremony for a moment of reflection about how lucky he had 
been.

It wasn't until the exchange of vows that the ultimate irony of the 
marriage became clear to Silvia. The moment came when the judge 
had said, "Do you, John Cook, ..."

The topic of his first name had come up between them on several 
occasions, but he had insisted on just being known as Cook. In 
fact, the closer they came to getting married, the more protective 
he had come of that one little piece of information. She blushed at 
the thought that she, a former whore, was marrying a John. It was 
all she could do to keep from laughing. Even the judge noticed her 
reaction, but chose not to react. Cook was smiling at her, knowing 
about her past and what had prompted her reaction.

Once the ceremony had finished with the Bride and Groom kissing 
each other, Carla was no longer able to control her mouth. 
Grinning wildly, she asked, "So when do we start wife-swapping?"

The quip broke any pretension of seriousness and caused everyone 
to burst out laughing. It was a right and proper response since 
weddings were supposed to be joyous occasions. It was hard to tell 
who was laughing the hardest. Cook was tempted to answer, "After 
the honeymoon." However, he was afraid that she would keep him 
to it. 

From the back of the room, a clapping sound caught everyone's 
attention. As one everyone turned to see Harry standing there with 
a large smile on his face. Spreading his arms as though to embrace 
everyone in the room, he said, "The Gods and Goddesses love a 
randy woman."

As one, everyone shouted, "Harry!"

Silvia was on the verge of drying of happiness. His arrival was an 
unexpected pleasure and made her feel as if she was the princess in 
a fairy tale wedding. The strong arm of Cook wrapping around her 
and embracing her helped keep her emotions under control. 

"I couldn't miss this occasion," replied the Druid with a large 
smile. He walked forward and embraced everyone in the room. 
With a wink at Carla, he said, "A perfect wedding complete with 
beautiful Bride, a handsome Groom, a horny Maid of Honor, and a 
willing Best Man. One can't ask for more than that."
<1st attachment end>


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