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Milo was pleased when he went to the next class. He saw forced smiles instead of stern looks. And when he learned of the next assignment he got a tingle in his crotch and couldn’t wait to get started. The assignment was to write an essay defining an abstract word or term; a word or term that could be used and interpreted in multiple ways. Milo was excited and knew instantly what abstract term he would write about: The word LOVE. That night he sat down and began to write and the words flowed out of him and through his fingers. It was stream-of-consciousness, automatic, effortless. Another A, he knew it. Teresa had plodded through a few essays covering the terms beauty, integrity (2), stupidity, blackness, contentment and courage before she came to Milo’s. It was titled simply, ‘Love’. She thought it was perfect, so simple, a word we all use everyday in so many ways. She was half-excited and half-afraid as she began reading. It was well-written as usual. She was impressed by the number of exotic interpretations and examples of usage Milo had come up with. The essay flowed easily from japanese the very first paragraph and related how casually the word is used in daily life. People say I love your sweater, or I love your hair. A child says he loves macaroni and cheese. His sister says she loves her teen idol. The high school quarterback says he loves the hot cheerleader as he undresses her and lowers her onto the back seat of his car. And of course in the game of tennis the word love means nothing; a big Zero. Then the writing segued into a more serious tone. Love in one’s family and how it can differ: Loving parents, children, siblings. The japan love in marriage and the love of massage God. It was all poignant and thought-provoking and had Teresa engrossed and on the edge of her chair. But it was the conclusion that left her again moved by this young man’s writing and trembling at the same time. Milo had summarized that love was what anybody wanted it to be, after all, it was just a word. Love is different for everyone. Then he described what love could be. As Teresa read the conclusion sweat broke out on her forehead and upper lip and goose pimples rose on her arms. She read: Love could be this college student sitting in the back of the classroom, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, admiring and listening to his instructor, his mentor, a beautiful, asian sexy woman a few years older, fondling his cock, hard between his legs beneath the desktop. And love could be the sick, sour ache he feels in his gut because he knows that even though they would make magic together he can’t be with her because he is her student and she belongs to somebody else. Teresa put the paper down and took a deep breath. “Naughty boy,” Orihime said. She stumbled forward and grabbed onto my shoulders to support herself. I mean, they didn’t do this kind of thing a hundred years ago, japan did they?” "So she did have an effect asian on you." Don't push it?! The inappropriate affection sending exciting shivers through her body. She got up and quickly came over and came in behind him and closed the exotic door. He simply grabbed the string japanese and tore it, revealing a tight ass and her pussy” “Just hmmm,” massage Plato replied. So instead of grabbing her like instinct told me to I instead gently stroked her belly with my fingertips, then her back. Mary smiled and then took one in each had.