He began sweating profusely. Shit, shit, shit, where was it? Running into the hall, he saw it lying on the table by the phone with the magazine beside...it. He didn’t remember carrying it with him to answer the phone and he was sure he slid home the magazine. The evil thoughts continued racing through his body. He had to end it today, the pain was too much to bear. Once again returning to the chair, he slid home the magazine once again. Sitting back, he listened to Bach’s ‘Violin Concerto No. 1. She lunged down my chest and her little boobs dabbed my cheeks. I kissed her cleavage. She did it again and again and each time I tried to kiss one of her soft nipples. When she changed position, I asked if she had done massage in Germany. She said that she did yoga and meditation and massage started as a hobby. “I was a personal trainer.” She was beside me now, leaning over me and pouring oil on my legs. I caught a good look at her firm ass and strong thighs. “That makes sense. You. More

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