“Watkins?” I asked.“Yes, now that you mention it, I believe it was Watkins,” he replied. “Why, do you know her?”I brushed that question as...de.If I live to be 100 years old I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for my next thought.And no, my first thought was NOT, “Deena couldn’t have done this,” or “Deena couldn’t hurt a fly.”When I later tried to apologize to her for what I was actually thinking, Deena insisted that an apology was not necessary and she really couldn’t blame me for thinking. “Now,” he said, guiding my hands to his cock.At first, I gripped him with one hand, but then I got an idea: I grabbed the lube, moistened both palms and formed them into a sort of hole for him to fuck as he moved over me. “Oh, yes,” he said.By now I was really fucking him, or he was fucking me, or maybe we were both fucking each other. It hardly mattered. I was so into it, and into him, that I could hardly tell where my body left off and his began. Each time he moved down, I raised my. More

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