Or, if they had gone out and done things together, they hadn't been motivated to document it.She couldn't blame John for all of that. Old Claire hadn'... taken any pictures of John doing whatever it was that John did when he wasn't at work or watching TV. Whatever either of them had done, individually or together, it apparently wasn't something worth remembering later.She took another step back. For the first time, she thought that maybe her amnesia wasn't such a bad thing after all.She was. She wore her yellow hair in a short ponytail. He could just barely see her black bra peeking out from the crop top, both revealing generous amounts of her medium-sized breasts. Her hips were narrow, made for fucking, not childbearing. She had a lovely face with high cheekbones and a cute little mouth. He imagined her kneeling in front of him with her lips wrapped around his cock. There was Marsha, a short brown-skinned girl, probably Hispanic or Middle Eastern; it was hard to tell. She was a. More

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