“We met at Gibson’s last week. You gave me your card.”“Of course. How are you?”“Pretty bad.”“When can I see you?” Her voice was firm... businesslike.“I don’t know. I don’t even know why I called you.” Suddenly all the feelings that I had bottled up came pouring out. She just listened as I sobbed my story to her over the phone.“Where are you now?” she asked.“In my apartment.” I gave her the address.“I’ll be there in half an hour,” she said.I hadn’t shaved in almost a week, although my beard was. She leaned forward, never letting her gaze leave mine until she had those gorgeous tits over my navel. She looked down and slowly let her tits touch my navel so that they became coated with Irish Cream. She rose back up and leaned down and with her hands pushed her tits up enough to her face so that she could lick the Irish Cream from them. My cock was harder than a rock, I swear! Then she leaned forward again and proceeded to slurp the Irish Cream from my navel. I felt like I was going to. More

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