He is perhaps 30, probably married, and blushes as he asks to take my picture. I nod yes, and his paunch jiggles as he circles me, snapping again and ...gain, as if he is afraid I'm a vision and will disappear before he is through. Satisfied (or perhaps out of memory) he breathlessly asks to sit with me. I nod again, and he haltingly tells me of my beauty or the special quality that he has captured. When I refuse to look at his efforts, he is frustrated for a moment and then relaxes, knowing that. She laid out her nightshirt on the stand beside the bed and tossed the covers back, presenting us with a crisp clean playing field. We met in the middle. I attacked her neck, savoring the sweet touch of perfume in her hair, the velvet of her skin, the giggles as I hit sensitive spots, then I acquiesced to her hands pushing me back onto the bed. This time the coupling was slower, soulful, sweet, satisfying on every imaginable level.Sated, we stretched out under the thin covers. A thump at the. More

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