There was a jar of flour, one
of fine sugar, and a jar of dried fruits, but no milk, and no fat, which she had
assumed meant butter. Eventually, a
last squeeze of her throbbing clitoris brought the longed for climax, her Mom
insisting Helen keep rubbing, twisting, and pinching the sensitive nub till her
third consecutive orgasm. As she walked through the garden, Joyce discussed with Div
the probable lifestyle that the previous owners of this small mine would have
had, considering what they’d found so far, and he agreed that they would
have to be self-sufficient. When Joyce
refused to admit that she enjoyed having her pussy tortured, and wanted a
piercing in her clit, electric shocks pulsed into her shaft, exciting her till she
climaxed. “Stop!”, Joyce said, and the display
froze, so she continued, “Less technical this time, more general. There were another six or so different plants that she
had no idea about, but assumed they were edible, and this was the kitchen
garden, even if it was a bit overgrown.
