Several days after he died, I was writing to a close personal -- real life -- friend. I put ten words together at the top of my message. Then I cried ...or a long time. It was cathartic. So I shared those words with a few electronic friends; people I'd been close to since the bulletin boards shut down, and everybody migrated to the World Wide Web. Once I did that, I decided to share my thoughts with the rest of you. I wrote:StanHe diedI wasn't readyI know he wasOnce I laid that grief on you, I. He felt slightly stupid and self-conscious even though he was alone as he tried to position himself to what he thought would be the correct position between the dolls legs. His erect penis bobbed about as he tried to insert himself correctly, he aimed himself at the dolls vagina, slowly he started to push himself forward, but with lack of any previous experience it was proving difficult and it was not working. He then tried opening he dolls legs further and tried laying with all his weight. More

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