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Title of novel:T: A Tribute to Lovers Chapter number: Emotions Author: TimM Setting: Not really much is described about her apartment but the overall sense comes out clear. The conversion van had a plethora of descriptions down the sink. Character Development: Linda – got out of a bad relationship. Calling herself following a friends advice for a one night stand and it turned out to be a lot more than just that. Sam – doesn’t quite fit into the true engineer convention. He is laid back, quiet and somewhat shy. Sandy – A true friend that tries to cheer up Linda from the harsh break-up her friend suffered. Plot: n/a Grammatical: n/a Personal Opinion: Once again a wonderfully well written story. I enjoyed the immensely from the point that Linda found out that so call so-to-be cheated on her and he acted like it was no big deal. To the way she handled herself at the club/bar they went to. Thank you for sharing your work. Strong emotions can lead to unexpected results. Emotions “I don’t believe you did that to me!” I waited for an answer while he sat there with his mouth hanging open and sweat running down his forehead. At first, his emotional slap made me sad. But over the last few hours, the hurting had gone away. I’d stopped crying a long time ago. Now I was mad. “You don’t get it, do you?” he asked, putting on the patronizing look that I’d grown to despise more and more over the last two years. “We aren’t married yet. Just because I had a lousy one-nighter with a girl I don’t even like, doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It just sort of happened. We were out drinking, she gave me a ride home, one thing led to another. You know how it is.” “You got that right. I know exactly how it is.” He took my hand. “Listen, Linda, it won’t happen again. I promise. Once we’re married, that’s it. Just you and me. Forever.” I stood up and pointed at the door. “Out.” “Oh come on. Don’t get your shorts in a knot over nothing. I told you I was sorry. It won’t happen again.” I crossed the room and opened the door. “Out.” He got up and sauntered past me into the hall. I peered around the door frame to see if any neighbors were watching. They weren’t. “This is one hell of a way to treat your future husband,” he said. I twisted and pulled at the diamond ring on my finger. It came off, but not without leaving a sizeable [Suggestion - not sure with this one but I think you meant to spell 'sizable'] welt. I dangled it in front of his eyeballs. “Get out of my life.” His jaw dropped even further. “You’re crazy. I’m not taking that. I’ll check on you in the morning. You’d better be over this shit by then.” He turned his back on me and started to walk down the hall. “Brad?” He looked over his shoulder. “Take your fucking ring and get out of my life!” I threw the ring as hard as I could. It whizzed past his head and clattered down the hall. I jumped back into my apartment, slammed the door, and drove the deadbolt home. He pounded a couple times while I leaned against the wall, shaking and crying once more. The pounding soon stopped, though, and the fire door at the end of the hall creaked open and closed. My legs gave out, and I sank to the floor, sobbing. I dealt with the situation in my usual way, by drinking half a bottle of cheap wine, putting on an exercise video, and half-heartedly trying to keep up with the anorexic little twit on the screen. The phone rang before a single drop of sweat hit the floor. “Linda? How’d it go?” “It went. He went. It’s over.” There was a moment of silence. “Uh, Linda, should I feel guilty about ratting him out to you?” I managed a weak laugh. “No. It was the push I needed. I should have given that bum the boot a long time ago. It’s just that...” “Hold that thought. I’ll be right over.” The line went dead. I wiped off my exercise mat, filed the video, and finished the bottle of wine. We could open a new one if she wanted any. Sandy is the best friend anyone could have. When she showed up a half hour later, she brought won-ton soup, sesame chicken, and a bottle of wine with a cork instead of a screw top, and foreign words on the label. “To getting rid of bums!” she toasted, clinking her glass against mine. “Yeah.” I guzzled half the glass. “So what’s the problem? You’re rid of a guy you never should have hooked up with in the first place. Why the long face?” I set down my glass and leaned back. “I didn’t want it to end this way. End, yes. But, like, rationally. Not with him kicking me in the teeth.” I licked my lips. “You ever have your boyfriend sleep around on you?” “Yeah, lots of times. And I sleep around on him. He doesn’t care, and neither do I. See, Linda, you and I have different approaches to life. You want it all settled, everything lined up in a row, neat and tidy. I’m more loose, if you know what I mean. I’m not ready to settle down yet, so things like that don’t bother me.” “Must be nice. I’ve got to admit, I don’t get it. He picks up a girl in a bar, sleeps with her, and then acts like it was nothing.” “Maybe it was nothing.” I stared at her. “You’ve got to be kidding. Would you pick up a strange guy in a bar and go to bed with him?” “Sure. He’s got to pass a few basic tests is all. If he passes, he’s good. If not, it’s adios amigo.” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Isn’t that, like, dangerous? Like you could get raped or something?” “Of course, if you pick up the wrong guy in the wrong place. For example, you don’t go near college kids or old drunks. But you see, there’s a trick. You know how I work at Pacific Travel?” “Yeah.” “So I watch the convention schedules. Engineers are the best, electrical and stuff like that. These guys are all professionals, with a good job, fat paycheck, a reputation to maintain. They go to the doctor, so no diseases or anything. They’re not going to do anything stupid, because they don’t want to mess up their lives. But that doesn’t mean they don’t have the, uh natural inclination, if you know what I mean. They’re ready for a quick one a thousand miles from home, long as it’s discrete and temporary.” “You’re serious, aren’t you?” She nodded her head. “You wanna know how serious? Come here.” She grabbed my hand and dragged me off the couch and into my bedroom. She rummaged through my closet until she found a black leather miniskirt, which she tossed on the bed. A minute later she held out a skin-tight, black tube top. “What’s the deal here?” I asked. “Society of Industrial Something or Other convention opens tomorrow at the Hilton. They’re arriving tonight. The hotel bar will be reeking of testosterone. We’re gonna check it out.” “No way!” “Way, girl. Get dressed. The welcome dinner is at six, probably about two hours long because of speeches and all that crap. I want to catch them when they hit the bar at eight.” “Sandy, I can’t do that! What if something...” “Listen, here’s the secret. Some guys are control freaks. They’re the ones you get in trouble with, so you weed them out right away. You do it by letting them know up front that you’re calling the shots. If they fight you, they’re gone. But you’d be amazed at how many guys catch on to the deal instantly. You tell them what you want, and if they do it, they get laid. They’re putty in your hands. And understand this, Linda. It’s not just because they want to get laid, so they’re willing to play along. No, it’s that they get off on it. It’s like they’re little boys all over again, and mommy’s taking care of them, telling them what to do and satisfying their needs at the same time. You find one, and you’re in for a treat.” This sounded crazy to me. “You’re sure?” A sly smile crept across her lips. “How would it feel to order a guy around for a change? I assume that would be something different for you, right?” I sighed and shook my head. “You don’t know the half of it. It took everything I had to tell Brad to get lost, and I’m still shaking. So you know what? You might be right.” I grinned and squeezed her hand. “Damn it, you are right. I might just enjoy this.” “Exactly what I’m thinking. Get out your whip and handcuffs, girl.” “My what?” “Just kidding. Let’s go.” ************************************************** The bar did reek like she said, but not of testosterone. Even though they had a separate smoking area, the fumes filled the room. I rubbed the smoke out of my eyes and watched Sandy go to work. She knew all the tricks. We sat in a table in the corner, our backs to the wall so we could see both doors and most of the tables. “See there?” she said, pointing toward a row of men sitting on stools along the bar. “Half of them are local regulars, no good for what we want. The other half are here to get pickled and tell their troubles to the bar tender.” She flicked her head toward the center of the room. “The action will be over there, especially if its one guy sitting alone at a table for four. He could just as well drink at the bar, but he’s advertising that he’s lonely and there’s room for company. Sometimes that’s bad, but most of the time it’s real good. The lonely ones are the most docile.” “On the other hand,” she continued, “two guys together can be a problem, which is a drag right now because there’s two of us. Oh well. See, if it’s just two guys, chances are they have a getting-lucky contest going. That’s why you need to watch the door when they come in. If it’s two guys, and the first thing they do is scan the room and nudge each other, stay away. They’re trophy hunting, and it’s never any fun being some asshole’s trophy lay.” That hit home, something I’m sure she never intended. “Don’t I know,” I said. “I was Brad’s fucking trophy for two years.” “Shut up and listen,” she said, then quickly smiled so I knew it was a joke. “The best is three or four. They’re here to have one drink, shoot the breeze with colleagues, and get to bed early so their brains are ready for the big convention day Saturday.” She suddenly looked up. The door had opened, and a group of men in suits walked in. She leaned in close. “The hunt is on,” she whispered. It was terrible timing, but the bottle of wine I’d drunk a couple hours ago had reached my bladder. I got up to go to the lady’s room and cringed when all six heads at the bar turned to follow me with unapologetic stares. I couldn’t really blame them. The miniskirt Sandy had picked out for me might as well have had ‘Hot to Trot’ painted in blaze orange. It came to about eight inches above my knees, which left little other than the color of my underwear to the imagination. And my skin-tight tube top was downright obscene. I hadn’t worn it since the day I bought it, because I thought it was so far beyond sexy that it was tasteless. I go back and forth between the small end of a 36-D and the large end, depending on how well I’m sticking to my diet. I’d been exceptionally bad lately, so tasteless didn’t quite cover it. Sandy thought it was great, though. It’s all in the image, she said. With the kind of guys we were after, you have to rub their face in it if you expect them to take a taste. “What do you think?” she asked when I returned from the bathroom. With a barely perceptible nod of her head she indicated a table of four on the other side of the room. I pretended that I dropped my napkin and fished under the table while actually studying them. They were all pretty young, maybe out of college a couple years. That was good. I’d imagined they’d be balding fifty-somethings with guts hanging over their belts. This idea of Sandy’s was scaring the crap out of me. If I was going to hop in the sack with a strange guy, he damn well was going to be a cute strange guy. I sat up and nodded. Sandy stood and casually strolled across the room, with me trailing behind. Even though she wasn’t tarted up the way she’d dressed me, she’d give most guys under ninety a hard-on. She had a wide derriere, and didn’t look too great in a bikini. But with the right clothes, she could show it off something fierce. Her navy-blue pants fit like they were painted on, and they concealed her pubic hair with barely an inch to spare. Her matching stretch top ended a couple inches above her navel, leaving a good half foot of tight, bulge-free skin to draw even my eyes to her dramatic hourglass middle. Her red ponytail made a striking contrast to the blue top, all in all giving her one hell of a look-at-me effect. It wasn’t just my imagination, either. Most of the eyes in the room were glued to her swaying ass. She grabbed a pair of chairs from an adjacent table, slid one of them into a gap between two guys who were still wearing their name tags, and found another gap for herself. “Hey, mind if we join you?” she asked, a huge, silly grin on her face. All four of them looked dumbfounded, as if a chimp had just walked in and sat down. “Sure,” one of them said, the one whose lapel tag said, “Hi! I’m Frank Covelli!” in big red letters. “I just come here to dance,” Sandy said, loud enough so half the room could hear her. “Don’t you all just love to dance?” A few heads nodded. Someone mumbled. I swear, all that girl needed was to be chomping on bubble gum. The picture would have been complete. In her still loud, sing-song voice she went on, “If I put money in that juke box, will one of you dance with me? Oh, wait a minute. First I gotta check. I wouldn’t want to make any wives mad. Any of you guys married?” Three heads swivelled to look at the shortest, an olive-skinned stocky guy with curly black hair. “Uh, I am,” he said. “But my wife wouldn’t mind.” Sandy wagged her finger at him. “Oh yes she would. If word got back to her that you was dancing with a strange woman in a bar, she’d have you sleepin’ in the garage for a month. And you know what?” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I wouldn’t blame her none, either. Because I’d do the same thing. Any husband of mine went dancin’ with strange women, I wouldn’t put up with it. Course, I ain’t married, so it don’t matter much, does it?” Someone said, “No, I guess not.” “Excuse me,” the guy on my right said, holding out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Sam.” I started to take him up on the handshake, but a wisp of smoke drifting from the other side of the room caught in my throat and I erupted into a coughing fit. He stared at me with terrible guilt on his face, like he’d somehow caused my cough. He whipped the napkin out from under his drink and pressed it into my hand. “Thanks,” I croaked when I got my breath back. I cleared my throat a few times and blew my nose in his napkin. “I hate cigarette smoke. I think I’m allergic.” He started to say something, but Sandy grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the chair. “Come on, Sally Anne,” she said. We’ve got to pick out something on the jukebox so we can dance.” She hustled me across the room, grinning the whole time. When we reached the jukebox, she leaned down and nudged me. “One down, three to go. Never get involved with a married man. Not that they’re no fun, mind you. It’s just a respect thing. I’m not gonna mess around with another woman’s husband.” I nodded. Brad’s recent adventure was still fresh in my mind, so I was totally sympathetic. Sandy fed the machine and pressed a couple buttons. A 70's disco beat erupted at ear-shattering levels. She marched me back to the table. Three of the guys stared at her, fidgeting, until Frank stood up. Sam was looking at me, a shy smile on his face. I took his hand. He got up slowly and leaned toward me. “I can’t dance!” he shouted. “Neither can I!” I dragged him away from the table into the middle of the dance floor, sizing him up on the way. He definitely passed my cute test. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, probably less, young for a professional. He had wavy blond hair, parted in the middle and covering his ears. Between his impish round face and little pug nose, he looked like he belonged in a forest, peeking out from behind an ancient magical tree. I had a funny feeling that if I lifted his hair I’d find that his ears were pointed. He was right when he said that he couldn’t dance. I raised my arms high and shimmied to the beat while he more or less rocked from side to side, putting his weight on one foot while he kicked out with the other. At least he didn’t try to paw me, putting his hands all over my body and pushing me around like Brad did. In fact, he was kind of fun, trying so hard to follow me in hip gyrations that only a woman could do right. He failed the dance test miserably, but at least he put in a lot of effort, which was more than most men were willing to do. The song ended at last, and the relief that washed over his face was comical. Poor guy. He had so wanted to impress me, and he must have thought he blew it. Little did he know that I’d take an enthusiastic failure over an egotistical showoff any day. I should have known Sandy wouldn’t leave anything to chance. The second song she’d chosen was Elvis, ‘Love Me Tender.’ Sam had already started easing his way back toward the table. I took a couple quick steps to catch up, clutched his hand, and shouted over the din, “You quitting already?” I gave him about one second to think it over, and then wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him close, pressing my pelvis into his while I swayed to the beat. He gulped so hard I felt it in my chest, but he slipped his arms around my back and let me rest my head on his shoulder. I liked the fact that he was exactly my height. I always felt weird having to look up at a guy when I talk to him. He was a lot better at slow dancing than he was at disco. We held each other in a warm embrace, swaying together in perfect time to the beat. I glanced around and was surprised to see that Sandy wasn’t dancing. She’d returned to the table and looked like she was trying to have a conversation with the three guys over the music. My miniskirt was real leather, so it’s pretty tough to feel anything through it. But I felt him. He must not have had his cock curled and tucked down in his underwear like men usually did. It was standing up, and it had just grown so big around that I couldn’t fit flat against him any more without squishing it between our bodies. I backed away enough so we were barely touching. Looking him straight in the eye, I slid from side to side a couple times, rubbing my skirt against the bulge in his pants. He turned bright red, and I felt bad, so I stopped doing it and pulled him close, swaying to the music once again. Feeling his enormous presence between our bodies sure got my juices flowing, though. Sandy was right. The idea that he was a stranger added a special touch that simply wasn’t there with the same old guy. I could fantasize about what he’d be like, and every one of my fantasies was better than anything I’d had with Brad. The music ended, and we were almost back to the table when another coughing fit struck me. I cursed the one asshole at the end of the bar who was chain smoking, single-handedly polluting the entire room with his stench. “Maybe you ought to get some air,” Sam said. I nodded. It was a great idea, so I gave Sandy a wink and glanced at the door. She winked back, but didn’t move. Sam and I slipped our hands together and hustled outside. The fresh air was delightful. “You shouldn’t hang out in there,” Sam said. “The smoke’s bad for you.” “I know. I hate it, but what can I do? Sandy likes to come here to dance.” “So? You should get a vote, too. What do you want to do?” I knew exactly what I wanted to do, but I wasn’t exactly sure how to tell him. Sandy and I hadn’t discussed that part of it. She probably figured she didn’t have to spell it out. So I punted. I wrapped my arms behind his neck exactly like I’d done when we slow danced, but this time I didn’t rest my head on his shoulder. I kissed him, softly but with enough of a grip to let him know I was serious. This was not a friendly peck on the lips. I meant business. As we embraced, the bulge in his pants returned. It was time. I ground my pelvis into his and whispered in his ear, “I want to make love to you.” He jerked back and said what has to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life: “Me?” “Yes you! Who else is here?” Then he did the second-dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. He actually looked around to see who else was here. Nobody, of course, except a few bemused businessmen who probably thought I was a hooker working the convention. “Now?” he asked “Well, not right here in the street. We’d get arrested, don’t you think? Got any ideas?” He glanced back inside the hotel door. I could tell he was wondering if he should make a run for it, see if he could get back to the protection of his comrades before the crazy lady did something dangerous. But sense must have returned to his head, because he took my hand and led me around the corner of the building to the parking lot. “Where are we going?” I asked, wondering if maybe I’d just made a big mistake. “My van. You’ll like it.” He led me to a gigantic conversion van and held the door for me while I tentatively stepped inside. I’d never seen anything like it in my life. There was a sink in the corner, a toilet, and even a tiny shower stall. Rows of narrow drawers lined one side of the interior, shelves covered the other side, and a double bed filled the entire back. “This is yours?” I breathed in amazement. “It’s my hobby. Like it?” “It’s beautiful.” He took both of my hands in his. “Were you serious? About making love to me?” I didn’t answer, and instead unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, and the next. He started to help me, but I pushed his hand away. Sandy’s words rang in my head. The secret is staying in control. I removed his shirt and pulled his undershirt over his head. He had hardly any chest hair, and what there was of it was fuzzy light blond. I ran my fingers through it, enjoying the soft feel. It wasn’t hard and rough like Brad’s, more like I imagined baby hair. His heart pounded against my hand, and he was breathing in short, fast breaths, but not making a move, letting me set my own pace. So far so good. My cunt was wet and twitching, driving me crazy with its insistence to get the show on the road, but I refused. Sam the mystery man made me feel like I was a virgin again, and I was determined to savor this, my bonus deflowering of a new and exciting sort. I skimmed my head around his chest, pausing every now and then to catch one of his tiny nipples between my lips and flick it with my tongue. He made the cutest sniffing sound every time I did it. I nudged him with my fingers and he lay back on the bed, thrusting into sudden prominence the bulge I’d been admiring all evening. I lowered his zipper and tugged off his pants and underwear. A tiny vein on the side of his cock pulsed in time to his racing heart. Resisting the urge to wrap my lips around it, I got up and found a washcloth on a shelf above the sink. I moistened it with warm water, wrapped it around his cock, and slid it up and down. He squeezed my leg, moaning softly. I tossed the cloth aside, leaned over him, and licked it, starting at the base and running my tongue up to the tip. His abs rippled as he caught his breath. I puckered my lips around it and slowly took it into my mouth, flicking my tongue all the time. When it was in as far as it could go, I flattened my tongue against its base and drew back even more slowly until my lips closed over its tip. I’ll never forget the look on his face. He was staring straight up at the ceiling, his eyes as wide as if he’d just seen a ghost, and his mouth hanging open. I decided I’d better stop right then if there was to be anything left for me. I stood up, grasped the edge of my tube top, and lifted it over my head. He closed his mouth, but his eyes remained just as wide as they had been a moment ago. Before unhooking my bra in the back, I slipped the straps down over my shoulders and peeled the cups away, gradually revealing my breasts from top to bottom, making sure to brush my nipples with my fingers so they would tighten. Only then did I undo the clasp and toss the bra aside. My recent dietary failings had put a few pounds on, but much of that had settled in my boobs, making even my D cup a bit snug. Sam appeared to appreciate it. The clasp hidden in the back of my miniskirt fell open in my fingers, and the skirt dropped to the floor. Hooking my thumbs in the elastic band on my black bikini panties, I tugged it down and kicked it away. One step forward put me against the bed, and two more steps put me on it, straddling him. The urge to plunge him inside was almost overwhelming, but there one more thing I wanted to do to make it complete. I waddled forward on my knees until my crotch was directly over his head, leaned to grab a handhold on the wall for support, and lowered myself until his nose brushed my pubic hair. It was a risk. I hoped he knew what to do. Surely it would be instinctive. It was, sort of. I doubt if he’d ever done it before, because he was awkward. He licked randomly, and sucked too hard once, making me jump. He soon got the idea, though. I helped him along by making cooing noises when he did good things and erk noises when he went wrong. I think he would have make me cum if I gave him a minute more, but the throbbing in my cunt was driving me nuts, and I couldn’t wait any longer. I waddled back down the bed, grabbed his cock, and dropped down on it in one impatient plunge. I’d [Suggestion – I think you meant to say ‘It’d’]been so long since I’d done it that way that I forgot how deep it goes. And Sam was big. I had to wait a few seconds to get used to it being inside me. I ran my fingers up and down his chest, twiddling with his nipples and tickling his abs. He was on another planet, gazing at me through glassy eyes. I put my hands on his shoulders, lifted up my butt, and dropped down again. After only a couple more times, my cunt started to squeeze his shaft, a sign that the end was in sight already. He’d gotten me a lot higher with his mouth than I realized. I sat up straight and pushed forward, flopping his enormous cock against my G-spot. A jolt like an electric shock raced through my body. I relaxed back and thrust forward again. The shock was stronger this time. My body took over, leaving my brain behind. I lunged forward and back, harder and faster. Sam’s body tensed below me, driving him deeper. I pressed my hands against the ceiling of the van and pushed, grinding my pelvis into his, thrusting wildly. He suddenly let out a groan and stiffened. His warm, wet seed filled me and pushed me over the top. I moaned and arched back, staring at the ceiling and trembling. When it was over, I collapsed on top of him, panting in exhaustion. His breath came in short, sharp gasps that slowly deepened into normal breathing. When my strength returned, I sat back up, making sure I didn’t disturb the lovely presence of his soft but still magnificent cock inside me. His mouth curved up with the most beautiful, peaceful smile I’d ever seen in my life. I stroked his cheek with two fingers, admiring his boyish, almost angelic face. “You’re kind of young to be an engineer,” I said. He laughed. “Where’d you get that idea? I’m a senior at the State College. My big brother is the engineer. I live in town, so we figured we’d get together when he came down for the convention.” “Really?” I wondered what Sandy would say about this. Violation of all kinds of rules. Not an engineer. In fact, a college student. A local, to boot. Would she chew me out for blowing it? Did I care? “Sally Anne?” He winked. “What’s your real name?” I sighed. “Linda.” He caressed my stomach, tickled his way up to my breasts, and cupped one in each hand, lifting and squeezing them lightly. Once again, I felt self conscious, being so big on top. He looked perfectly happy, though. “Linda,” he breathed. “You’re an amazing woman.” I smiled. What could I say? He lay still, a faraway look on his face, though he kept gently massaging my breasts, as if he was committing everything about them to his memory. “That friend you came with?” A pang of jealousy hit my gut. It was crazy. I had no reason to be jealous, but I was. “What about her?” He touched my face, running his fingers down my cheek. “You’re nothing like her.” It wasn’t a question, but it set me to thinking. I knew the answer. “No, I guess I’m not.” “Good.” He raised his head so he could take my nipple in his mouth, and squeezed it between his lips. At the same time, his cock thumped inside me. He lay back down and began tracing random patterns over my breasts with his fingers, passing over a nipple every now and then. Little by little his cock grew, emphasizing its presence by delightful twitches as it filled me. “You want to do it again?” he asked. “Hell yeah.” I flopped down on top of him, wrapped my arms around his back, and rolled us over, putting him on top. “It’s your turn this time.” He nibbled my neck and whispered, “I think I can handle that.” “If it’s all the same to you, though, let’s take it easy. None of this slam bam stuff.” I reached up and brushed his curly blond locks away from his ear. I’d been wrong when I pegged him for a wood elf, because his ears weren’t pointed after all. I kissed one anyway. “Long and slow. I want to savor you.” He grinned and pecked me on the lips. “Anything you say.” ****************************************************************** We strolled into the hall, acting as nonchalant as the situation allowed. Sandy was still seated at the table with the three guys, looking flustered. “Where’ve you been?” she demanded. “Oh, out getting some fresh air.” She flicked her head toward one of the men. “This is Sam’s big brother. Sam is a college student. He lives in town.” I smiled sweetly. “I know. He’s taking me to the movies Friday.” ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Writing is like making love. Don't worry about the orgasm, just concentrate on the process. —Isabel Allende ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** T.S. Presley |
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