”“Oooh you great lout, pull yourself together. She looks at me disgustedly and raising her voice she says, “you’re pathetic, coming in snivell...ng like a baby just because some old bag has kicked the bucket. Jesus you didn’t cry this much when my dad died.”“I know, I know and I’m sorry.” I say, wiping away some of the tears that will not stop flowing.“Well I’m not staying here to listen to you blubber all night.”Noisily she pushes her chair back and leaves me sitting alone with my inexplicable. Which was just as well.If it had been both her intention and her plan to withhold herself from me by way of a softening up process, I now see, then she had played her hand beautifully.What else would explain my reaction when she withdrew a sopping finger from her cunt and held it under my nostrils?Why else would I –the man so anti oral sex; at least from man-to-woman- have allowed her to trace a downward path to place that same, slick, finger on my lips?And why, finally, still remembering my. More

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