" Tough enough for me", I interrupted. "Must be nice not to have to break your pretty hands on the job and to come make light of us hard-working men w...ile we have a pint, eh?" I couldn't hide my hostility."Peace", he said. He showed me his hands, and they were the hands of a real working class man. Scarred, rough, but nimble and clever, made to twist knobs, match gears, or hold spanners. That's when I wondered how his cold, uneven fingers would feel on my skin."I'm Charles Owen, and I'm a union. The light played off her womanly curves. The heaviness of her sagging breasts, the gentle undulating edges of her pudgy sides. This was not a model's body. These breasts were heavy and not very shapely. They had done their service for my sister and I, and now they hung pendulous, her large nipples pointing out and down like pencil erasers. She did her lotion routine, moistening up her whole upper body, while I watched through squinted eyes transfixed on her matronly form. She powdered her. More

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