By the three-peat her blouse had been thrown to the floor, her bra was discarded and she was tweaking her stiff nipples while lightly touching her pus...y through the silky fabric. The large wet spot spoke loud and clear that she wanted more than her finger inside those panties and I was listening to her body. I stood up and slowly began to strip naked, keeping my eyes focused unflinchingly on the beauty that danced before me. I sat back down on her sofa and emptied another glass of wine in one. Lying here in bed, in my room at the nursing home, I think back on all the women I've had. Sweet as maple syrup, every one of them. The warm smell of the soft nipple of my high school sweetheart, back before the War that was. It would stand right up, that nipple, when I popped it into my mouth, but, no, she wouldn't let me go much farther than that. Nope. Virginity still meant something in those days.My first real woman was Polynesian. We were based on Maluka Nui, in the Solomons, 'bout the. More

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