"I mean I've never really been with anyone who likes to give blowjobs--which is fine, I don't really care--but yeah, no, I've never came from a blowjo...," Ryan said, sipping his second beer and leaning back into the couch. "I don't know. Maybe it's me?"Ryan was a lanky guy. Even sprawld back against the couch, his knees seemed to stick out well into the middle of the cramped apartment. He had freckles and a mop of shaggy black hair--a kind of reformed goth kid. He was attractive enough and I. She'd obviously been slapped. Hard. She was looking down at the floor. I lifted her face until she was looking at me."Sweetheart," I said, gently stroking her cheek, "who did that to you?" No matter," she said, "no matter."She collapsed against me. I held her while she sobbed. The more she cried, the more I wanted to kill the pig who'd hurt her. Just as suddenly as she'd begun, she stopped and pulled away from me."What's for supper," she said, snuffling.It was obvious that she didn't want to. More

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