“You’re not the first, and I doubt you’ll be the last. What’s your name?” “Danny,” I said. “I live here. In the next room.” “Oh ye...,” she said. “We’ve talked on the phone, haven’t we. I’m Sandra. I’d shake your hand, but, well.” I shot her a humourless grin, and realised with some surprise that she was staring at my limp penis. To my absolute shock she then put a hand around it. “Quite a big boy, aren’t you Danny?” she said, smiling at me and squeezing gently. I grunted, trying to quell the. Well it is for this crew. Wendy and I are 50 and have never been heavy drinkers. In fact when Wendy gets past the second beer all she wants to do is go to bed and pass out.We found our way back to Lana's apartment through the slush covered streets and for some God-awful reason decided to stay at her place instead of trying to find a motel. The movers had dropped off the few pieces of furniture Lana had moved from her parent's house and she planned on buying the rest this weekend with our. More

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