Catherine couldn’t imagine ever being happy with him, but happiness didn’t seem to be something guaranteed to anyone.The only thing that sometimes...helped was writing, but she couldn’t think of anything worthy to say. She had spent hours scratching needy and hopeless words on paper, dreaming they would be the key to making her feel like part of everything again—part of the pulsing, breathing, hoping city in which she lived. She had yet to dream up something that could do such a neat trick.The. .. if you like what you see... well... you can... you know."I knelt down in front of Sandy, took my cock in my hand, and started rubbing it against her sopping lips. She gasped and twisted, still holding herself open. "Please," she said again, and aware of the others watching us, I slid it in.She was fever-hot and slick as oil. I pumped her deep and slow, all the way in and all the way out; I knew that slamming it in fast and ferocious like I wanted to wasn't advisable in her condition, so I. More

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