My Indian Wife Renu2

Whatever!!! But rotten he definitely was. He was the rottenest, stinkiest, steamiest, steamy, steampunk in the whole history of steamy steampunkdom. Imagine taking all the hamsters in the world and putting them in a giant cage and never cleaning them out for like a month until they were just yucky sawdust and hamster stink and poop; that's how steamy he was. But we had to wait for the bus so he yacked and blathered and I stood and wiggled and concentrated on being the absolute yummiest perky, pokie, wiggly, teen-angel of seductiveness ever and by the time the bus arrived we were all new and excitable 'best friends forever' forever.When we got on the bus, we had to go and sit on the back seat because that's where rebels-without-a-clue sit. And as the bus did its stop/start, stop/start, stop/start journey, my twin mounds of Australian sandstone went whackety-whack up and down on the barely upholstered seat, and my bounteous jigglies of lusciousness were twerking on my chest like Miley. It wasn't there a minute ago.' Wendy thought, 'do I or don't I? I'm not liking this passage one little bit.'She crawled out the passage to the cavern. With her orange paint she posted a big NO above the passage. The WAY OUT was a trifle tighter than it had been going in.The sun was shining, birds singing, white butterflies over a sloping meadow of wildflowers. At the end of the meadow, a rapid river moved, splashing over and between sunlit boulders. David, wearing shorts, Berks and a Tee, was fly-fishing along the bank.The Suburban was parked next to a 5 man pop up tent. Wendy was at a small fire cooking a hotdog for a beautiful 7 year old blond, they were singing. The song made no sense but they enjoyed it. Twin boys were playing with the family dog. Fresh air and pine scent was redolent.The entrance to the cave was large enough for her to look out and down from the padlocked grated door. She watched as David reeled in a big trout, unhooked it and released it back into the rapid.
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