I mean, we all saw what happened. You'd think he'd know that we knew it hurt. You know that old saying, 'this is going to hurt me a lot more than it h...rts you'? After seeing that, no one, except Prancer, gets to say that anymore. So as to what really happened? I'm afraid that's something you'll just have to leave to your own imagination. Trust me, your imagination could never imagine something that bad. Thanks for the letter, Jill." Our next letter comes from Paul in Washington State. "Dear. And Mrs. Foster," as he smiledmeekly and nodded to those at the table. He then began to move towardsthe table entering the kitchen, his high stiletto heels making the samestaccato click on the floor that Mrs. Foster's shoes always did.He could hear the swish of his dress and the zip of his nylons as he tookhis practiced short mincing steps being sure to wiggle his hips. Henoticed the boys all looking at his shapely hairless legs now made to lookeven more feminine with the addition of the. More

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