In my mind I see those bare legs spread wide, that short skirt flying up, those tight white knickers, that bulging mound, her young breasts bouncing. ...mages of Linda flood my mind. Memories I’ve masturbated over so many times. Glimpses I’ve caught of her panties up her skirt. Peeps between her blouse buttons of big young breasts nestling in white lace. That beach day last summer on her twentieth birthday, her bikini just four tiny triangles of red cloth barely big enough to sling her heavy. Release the hostages and put down the gun.’ A time before anti-depressant drugs, we never heard about depression. No one talked about it. No one discussed it. They just smoked their cigarettes, drank their whiskey, overate, and died. Back then, the Cleavers, Ward, June, Wally, and little Beaver were a pretty happy bunch. So weren’t the Nelsons, Ozzie, Harriet, Dave, and Rickie. Depression was spoken only of in the padded rooms of mental hospitals just before they gave you electric shock therapy. More

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