There was one, a photograph of a nice ass in white cotton panties. Not Pat's.When I reached Pat's door, I was an hour late, and Pat made sure I knew. ...Where the fuck have you been?" I could see her nipples pushing against her thin sweater, so I clamped the right one between my thumb and finger."Fuck me, that hurts," Pat squealed.I used Pat's nipple to pull her to me. Our tongues fought, and I had a good feel of Pat's breasts. "Show them to me," I told Pat and pulled harder on her nipple until. We had argued for about two hours, pretty much his argument being better than mine, but I stood my ground. I wasn’t listening, just trying to push him out. The last thing that he said to me was, ‘I’m going to come back for you, whether you like it or not,’ before walking away. I haven’t heard or seen from him since. And now that I realized how wrong I was to let him go, there wasn’t an immediate next party or a next guy. It was just the next day after day of lurching around trying to find. More

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