We looked at the centerfold, sometimes nervously at each other, and started to stroke tentatively. Eye contact was a little dangerous, but our roamin... eyes weren't always on the centerfold. Matt had had the foresight to find paper towels. They lay on his bed, a nod to the reality of what was to come.It was unsatisfying. Simultaneously, we were realizing: this wasn't what we'd set out to do."This isn't really working that well," Matt said after a couple minutes of slow stroking, neither of. I did, however, draw the line when she tried to get that dildo up my ass. No fucking way that was going to happen! We laughed and played some more and then drifted off to sleep.Over the next two days, I started to worry about her. She kept complaining about her arms being numb, saying that it would get better once the alcohol kicked in. We talked and it was my thought that she might be clinically depressed. On the third day, I was there I made an appointment with a psychiatrist in Austin. . More

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