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He notices that I'm starting to blush (my main fault damnit!), and he says, "So how many girls have you banged?" Well I'm taken aback at this, and I ...ell him, "None, do you think a fat guy like me could get some?" He laughs and says, "I don't know, I'm sure there's plenty of people into that kind of thing!" winking at me very oddly. He heads for the showers and I quickly beat my throbbing cock off, to get it limp again, and then I go around the corner to get in the shower. I keep telling. Going out to dinner and spending the night with him would be a whole different situation. It would be much more than just uninhibited, wanton sex; we would naturally get to know each other more completely. I thought that was a good idea, but it could also be dangerous... What if, besides sex, an affection developed? Something beyond the close friendship we had achieved.This could be risky business. For all of us, but especially for George and I. The need to tell George what I was going to do. While women my age scowl and frown at these aging, Upper West Side Boomers pushing strollers as the hand of the thin, blonde wife 20 years their junior rests lightly on their arm, I feel a kinship with the old goats. We are the same, me and that bald white guy, drawn to the exotic other, not caring that the object of our desire has no c***dhood memory of a Kennedy assassination or a typical W.A.S.P. Sunday dinner of over-roasted beef, lumpy mashed potatoes and soggy vegetables.Analyze the roots. ”I shrugged. “It wasn’t a bother. Besides, it kept me busy and allowed you two some time to talk.”Danielle’s eyes widened. “I’m the only one who’s been talking. Jana’s been crying the entire time.”I sat on the bed. “Really? What about?”She shook her head. “I haven’t the faintest idea. Honestly, I’ve never seen her like this.”“So, why are you in here?” I asked. Danielle didn’t strike me as someone who left her friends sobbing.“The only word I could understand through all of her sobs ... was your.
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