"No, but you know where I live. And as to my number, here it is," I said and wrote both our landline and my mobile number on a scrap of paper. "Can I ...ave yours?" I don't have my own mobile phone and we have no landline," she said miserably."But what if you mother wants to get hold of you?" I blurted."She doesn't," Fran replied, and tears started to form in her eyes.Ouch. She really had it tough. I made a mental note-to-self that a mobile phone would be an excellent gift, provided I ever got. " I didn't know what to say. The last thing Iwanted to do was to make her angry."And, really, I can't believe it gives you any great pleasure either."She was right, of course. Twice a month I climbed onto the laundry-folding table in the basement, propped myself up on my elbows and knees,butt in the air, while my wife pushed her fingers deep into my anus inorder to "milk" my prostate. I can't honestly say that it felt good,nothing like an orgasm?well, how I remember an orgasm used to feelbefore. More

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