If her torso had been the Mississippi River, my hand would have been roaming around St. Louis instead of the Delta. She said nothing as she let me con...inue my silly caresses of her lower stomach. She seemed like she might let me go further.Finally, she reacted.“What do you have there?” she said defiantly, her eyes pinned to my tenting crotch.She opened my fly and reached in.“You know what to do with this?” she challenged.“Yes, I do,” I said equally defiantly.I managed paw her right tit, groping. “Do you remember the brown liquid?” Shania asked me. I clicked off the remote. “The bourbon?” I replied. “Yeah, I remember.” “Should I tell you what I was really thinking that day?” “You can tell me anything, my love. It won’t make a whit of difference in how I love you.” “Well,” she said, “that day when the elevator was broken, I saw you at your door. I thought, ‘There’s that nice guy. Wonder if he’d do me.’” “You really thought that?” “I did. I was a slut.” I laughed aloud. “You were never a. More

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