Name: Anonymous 2012-01-14 20:22
Relaxed, reclined upon the beach, the sand warms you in the twilight hours. Out from from the brush come the weasels, brown, wee, sleekit, they undulate playfully on the beach. Soon the beach is more fur than sand, and weasels are brushing their soft bodies against you as they frolic. Some manage to find their way in and out of your shorts, and you are not concerned. You are most definitely in the realm of the senses.