It was a dry oloroso. Good sherry was one of my vices.I poured a healthy glass and, putting a CD by Julie London on, I went to bed early. I listened t... her singing, "Cry Me a River" and that's sure what I felt like doing - crying a river of tears.As I lay there I realized I had put my ghosts to bed forever. Jerry had been hurt; he might have been killed. I felt his pain, but it was his pain, not mine. What hurt me was that when something actually did happen to him — I wasn't there to support. Still looking toward the window, Lucy gasped to Matt, “He doesn’t.”Matt opened his eyes, having closed them as Lucy was stroking his penis, and asked, “Who doesn’t? Doesn’t what?”“Paul,” Lucy answered. “Doesn’t have a small penis.”As their eyes adjusted to the lighting conditions, the silhouette of Paul’s cock was clear through the window. Although Matt’s cock, about seven inches in length, was good-sized and above average, Paul’s looked clearly larger. Lucy gasped, and then blushed. All three. More

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