The title reminds me of some rock music my beloved granny adored. 

Mother don't care about music much. My sister is recovering from a traffic accident and listens to soft ambient music, so I have to use my headphones to damage my hair cells in my ears with granny's symphonic rock.

Music is not what binds us: it is sex. I am not sure what I am going to tell you about it in detail, some of you know something and one of the people gathered here is our online Daddy who knows almost everything.

Sorry -and don't worry - Conny is fine and healing well, it took some time. This week she was able to open her profile here again and she have read all the e-mails again.

I long for her. I hate it to have to be careful with her now so vulnerable body in my loving embraces. I miss the hot sex and all the gods knowz how happy I was to taste her again. Lapping up her fluids oozing from her cunt, hot as usual and groping my invading, darting tongue.

There is a lot to tell. I hope to tell more very soon. I need someone too.

xoxox Elma