Shes desperate for him to fuck her, to make her scream, to make her shudder, to feel his dick deep inside her, as she rides him, and digs her nails in...o his back. Shes not thinking straight, shes lost in her own little world, as their lips meet. Hard to define who even made the first move, but they lock, tongues instantly finding each other, as the kiss intensifies. So much passion, so much emotion, but yet so tender, as she feels his strong hands move around her body, and he caresses her lower. “She says only nice things about you,” Ester said.“Too bad, she doesn’t say nice things to me any longer,” I replied.After Ester, I went home to deal with Michael. His withdrawal wasn’t violent. He was able to control it. It was possible that he controlled it too well. If he was faking the PTSD symptoms he was damn good at it. However he wasn’t violent, he was just frustrated. I have to admit it is disconcerting to see dead men in your dreams. That is generally the place were I light my pipe.. More

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