..as the last of the cream-and-red beauties left the car barn that one final time. Yet here was a Route 64 flyer, matter-of-factly turning away. Bell...clanging, big as life.I looked around trying to become oriented in time and space - that's what my therapist always says to do when I have a flashback. Flashbacks have become more prevalent lately, as I try to come to grips with half-remembered childhood traumas that I won't go into here. This was no post- traumatic stress illusion, however - of. Standing up I looked down at my bodyand frowned at the thin roll of flesh around my navel. If I wanted to lookreally good I would have to begin to exercise much more I told myself as Iwent into Marie's bathroom.Hot steam wafted from the shower stall and Marie's bare arm waved me into thestreaming jet of water. She lathered my body and toyfully pulled at mywithered member, cupping her hand around my plum- sized testicles. Marie saidnothing as the sweat and dirty were washed away. Then she. More

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