The word sounded hollow in his ears. "Cancer? How can I have cancer? I eat right, exercise, do everything you've told me to doc. How can I have cancer..." asked John. "Cancer doesn't play fair John, but you do have stage 4 pancreatic cancer" Dr. Richards pulled x-rays out of a sleeve to point the hotspots out to John. His words fell into an empty pit that John was already at the bottom of. John's thoughts were of Lita, his wife of seven years. She was in the Wintered Under program in Antarctica.. I tried to get a rhythm going from there, but she was just too damn tight. Or maybe I'm just too damn thick. Either way, it wouldn't go in and out the way I wanted to, so I pulled it out altogether. "What are you doing?" she asked over her shoulder. I said nothing because I was working the spit around in my mouth. When I felt I had enough, I bent over towards her now gaping and somewhat red asshole and spat. My saliva coated her opening and began to thickly slide down. I had to act fast. Good. More

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