She simply looked over and smiled at me as I moved my own hands over her body. My hands explored her face, brushing through her dark hair and running ...long the sides of her cheeks. My own wanting to explore more took the best of me and my hands drifted down from her face, along her neck and to her breast. Both of my hands grasped one of her breast, cupping it gently between them. I could notice the obvious delight she was getting from this as her body shook with pleasure. My hands massaged that. It pays the bills, barely. Because my 1937 coupe is paid for, albeit in need of a new set of tires, I was living cheaply in a room off my office. It wasn't what one would call luxury. Up three flight of stairs and down a long-forgotten hallway of vacant offices, it wasn't what one would call, "Putting on the Ritz."I’m an on-again, off-again agnostic, when not in detox. One might say that I am an alcoholic. One might say I am just a fuckin’ drunk. I see myself as somewhere between a Wild Turkey. More

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