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It all began the day you found an old brass ring, half buried in the sand while down at the beach. You picked it up, turned it over a couple of times, then put it into your pocket. Looking back now, you can't remember what made you keep it. Perhaps you hoped to reunite it with its owner, perhaps you wanted to keep it for yourself. All you know now is that your life would have been very different had you left it behind on that fateful day.

With the ring at the bottom of your pocket, you completely forgot about it until a few days later, when you were emptying your trouser pockets ready to put them into the wash. Holding it up to the light, you examined it for any identifying marks, any engravings. It didn't look like it was worth anything in itself, being fairly plain except for something engraved on the inside in what looked like an arabic script. You peered closely, noticing some sand still embedded into the engraving. On instinct you rubbed the ring to dislodge the sand and dirt, at which point you were surrounded by a cloud of billowing smoke.

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Steve's response was to wrap his arms around her and roll her onto her back, where he lifted on his elbows and began thrusting vigorously into her. His lips traversed her face, her throat, and reached for her ears. Sara thrust back at him, her hips rising from the bed. One hand wound through his hair and beard, the other caressed his back, his ass, reaching between his cheeks and tickling his balls. They made love as if they had never made love before, giving each other all the benefit of...

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