The next day I went to his hotel to meet him. At first he was not willing to agree for anything, he was even mentioning divorce. I had to calm him dow.... Later on he lost his control and I felt sorry for him when I saw tears in that man’s eyes. His words faded gradually as he tried to tell me his version of the situation and I assumed it was because of the guilty feeling in him. We met at the manager’s room in his hotel. I felt we need more privacy to discuss such a sensitive family issue. We. As usual, while I looked, I received a half-dozen requests for chats. I usually didn't take advantage of this feature of the site. They were always so predictable, so similar; “Hey babe, wanna chat?”, “Eight inches here, want to play?”, or “OMG Sexy, I love your picture. It made me hard.” It reminded me so much of the bar scene in college--just what I dislike, drunken twenty-somethings trying to jump my bones before they puke or pass out from the beer. This night, however, I felt particularly. More

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