His ass looked nice in them, and I don’t need to tell you about my thigh-affection. “Hey Ali,” he smiled, turning around. He had a beer in his h...nd. I chugged some. I needed to be drunk to do this.I put my hand on his thigh, caressing it. “Long time no see.”“Indeed,” he said, “You’ve not changed a lot.”I slowly went up and up and up until my hand vanished underneath his shorts. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”“Don’t know.”“You’ve changed for the better,” I said curtly. I couldn’t resist. No one ever suckered him or betrayed him. These terrible fears never materialized, and he sometimes wondered if the good Lord put an X on him to keep him safe.‘Yes, God loves poets,’ he thought to himself. ‘Poets always fuck up, but God likes that.’He longed to see Amanda too, and suddenly this bothered him. He still needed a woman, now that he relinquished the idea of buying the Porsche, and Amanda remained the only person he really knew. He missed being in bed with her, her velvety skin like. More

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