. something ... incomplete ... about the way I was living.And behaving.My parents would never have understood. Or even recognized me. During that time...Sex. And drugs. And rock and roll. There was fighting in the street. I was a street-fightin' man. I was living a songwriter's dream.Marching and getting maced and looking at Hell's Angels dressed up as "security" and crying for the fallen here at home and cursing the fallen across the sea in another world and then going back to our little places. I asked again whether she’d heard me. She groaned a yes, but said she wasn’t stopping. Was it him, she asked? I looked again, couldn’t make out the person fully because of the strong sunlight. Said I didn’t know; possibly.That set Kerry off. She rubbed at her pussy, moaning loudly, her hips swaying and tits shaking delightfully. I was still wanking but nowhere near cumming although my head was swimming with the events. Kerry came on her fingers, actually splashing some juices onto me as her. More

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