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Odessa’s eyes suddenly got large and her body jerked. She looked and Dave, but couldn’t see down her body the way his torso covered hers. “Someone is ... eating me ... they’re sucking your cum from my pussy.”Dave smiled, “Most likely that’s my wife Julie, or, if it’s not her, my wife Cricket. Both are prone to do that. They really like...”Odessa moaned, “Oh, fuck. I’m going to cum again.” Her body arched and Dave felt her shudder through another orgasm before totally relaxing again. Dave moved to hold and caress her.Dave said, “Hello, Julie.”“Hi, husband. Can we keep this one? She tastes really good and is built like a brick shithouse. I’d love to make love to her several times a day, and so would some of the others who’ve commented on her sexiness.”“We have to see. We hope she’s going to accept a scholarship the way Heather and Kellie did. Odessa meet Julie. Julie meet Odessa.”Odessa crooned, “You gave me an orgasm.”Julie smiled, “That was my intent. I like to do that and you looked. I was supposed to help you get over her by offering a shoulder to cry on and words of advice. We weren’t supposed to end up like this, doing this dance. I wanted nothing more to hear you say the words though, to ask me to be yours, to ask me to give myself to you. With your situation, I know I cannot have you here, you can’t ask me that question, and I can’t give myself to you, at least not yet, and it’s killing me. I have promised to be patient and supportive until things are easier for you. Deep down inside though I don’t want to play fair, I want you all to myself and I don’t want to be patient. Most of Thursday was a blur waiting on the bar. It was my 34 th birthday and you were meeting my friends and me at the bar to celebrate a bit later in the evening. You and I had been talking all day, both via text and on Facebook. We were sending pictures back and forth trying to entice the other person, I won with pictures of my lingerie. You spelled out moment by moment what you were.
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A shot wasn’t going to kill my brother. Three hours later, my dad carried in my brother, limp as a dishrag. All us kids watched wide-eyed as he gently laid Danny down on his bed and covered him up. What kind of shot could do this to him? ‘They had to pump his stomach, but the doctor says he’ll be okay in a day or two,’ my mother said, sitting on the side of Danny’s bed, tenderly stroking his hair. I said nothing. Don’t get me wrong, I was scared, but no way I wanted to go through what Danny had. That day, I put that sucker stick in the cigar box my dad had given me two years earlier. It held all my earthly treasures along with my life’s savings of $18.27. I was on pins and needles for about a week, waiting to see if I was going to die. I didn’t. I didn’t even get sick. Looking back over the years, I should have died many times over. In college I had a few close calls in cars with drunken drivers but that was nothing compared to getting shot at the year I spent in Viet Nam. When I.

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