Olive oil spiced up with truffles, a kind but not wimpy blanket to wrap the reds in. Fresh lemon, like trombones but not too loud. My body was buzzing...and I had time for a run before the meat was ready to be fried. I don’t grill. Hate it. The grill wants all the attention, the frying pan is a team player. It doesn’t mess up the chords. I sniffed my running shoes. The white ones were most eager. I put them on and stood in my garden for a while. I wonder how I managed before, without a garden. In. “Hold him Phyl,” I said, “just for a little.” We were briefly a still life. I was throbbing, impaled on my doggy’s cock. He licked the back of my neck which was soothing. I felt his hot breath and relaxed. The pain eased. I moved my cunt back on that cock, adjusting, easing…moved a little more…the pain lessening…pleasure beginning to throb in me. I adjusted on the cock again…our rhythm began…slowly at first and then…then…He moved inside me again, this time his thick cock smoothly. More

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