"Pull my hair and fuck me in that order," she ordered. "I'm crying because it feels so good." Hang on honey," I said, glad to please her."It's like we...are back in the little house behind the flower shop," she said when I rolled off, satisfied and exhausted.But it wasn't the same. I kidded her about the giant horn-rimmed glasses she now wore, telling her she looked more like a professor every time we met. She had grown, become sophisticated and scholarly. It would be six months before we would. A tear crept down her cheek. She realized now that Michael had never cared for her. She had cared for him, but she didn't think it was love. It had never gone that far. She supposed he felt the same way. Maybe it was time to move on. But she thought they could have discussed it in person, instead of him casting her away like old shoes. Maybe he had found some willowy blonde Barbie doll type. All tits and no brains. Well fine. That's the type he wanted? Whatever.An hour after her bath, she felt. More

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