Row ... center.”“Oops, sorry, Mom. I got distracted.”I stood there holding the doorknob, looking into the darkened room, “That’s okay, I sho...ld have knocked.” I could not move as I watched my son casually put his cock back in his pants, zip-up, walk over to his computer, and start typing. I saw the theater website come up and figured it was safe to join Ron at his computer. I got as far as Ron’s window, glanced out, and saw Abram Goldberg on his back with his head between his wife’s legs. He. I was madder at myself than I was at her. When I was hung over, which I wasn’t today, I liked to blame the Irish. All of my d***ken Irish DNA. The genes that made me drink, that drove me to towering rages and depressed misery, that lost me jobs and girlfriends. A truly heartrending story, if only it were true. She had new muscles in her ass, and flexed them. Kathleen knew me better than I knew myself. We had grown up together in the same Boston Irish neighborhood. Blocks filled with c***dren of. More

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