I cried. I cried for my sister, her husband and their baby, my nephew. I cried for my parents dead in that accident. I cried for Dot and Sue and their...parents. I cried for Sam and Angie and their parents. I cried for the man I shot who had killed their dad and mom. I cried for myself. I just let it out. I was tired of death. I was tired of being alone. The tension of always being watchful, of having no one watching my back, was dragging me down. I didn't understand the violence. There were so. We both slept naked, and the feel of his butt was always arousing. God we did it a lot. All of it. Tender, gentle lovemaking, his touch sensitive but firm, our mutual caresses binding our souls. And fucking. Wild animal stuff. Frenzied coupling like wanton goats. Quickies almost anywhere, with him worrying whether I managed an orgasm, me frequently hoping I hadn't screamed too loud.I loved it all. He could get me wet without even being there. I'd be sitting at my desk at work, preparing yet. More

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