I got to read the poems as they came in, sitting in the airless, windowless room allotted to us in a 1930s, wannabe Gothic, PWA building in our public...(but cheap) college. They were all written on paper, would you believe the whole entire college had only one computer, an IBM 7 series the size of a walk-in refrigerator. Most of the poems showed promise, most as firestarters for barbecue charcoal, but we had to print a few. Yes, I was an arrogant puppy in those days. Then there was one, it. He works in Orlando and lives in St. Mary so that would be almost two hours out of his way. He agreed. fucking bitch.Friday came, no lunch date for him. He blew up my phone with texts and calls for almost the entire hour. I replied thirty minutes before his shift was over to remind him that he was coming over to my house. He said he remembered and asked why we didn't meet for lunch. I didn't reply. When he arrived, on time I might add, he kept checking to see if his car was going to be alright. Then I see who it is, and I jump to my feet.Alain.Right in front of me.My breath catches and I struggle to remind myself that there’s no way he could recognize me. I’m darker, stronger, rougher. I look every bit the dirt-born farmer I’ve become, not the soft and meek little servant he’d taken like a maiden.“You seem to be lost,” he says. The timbre of his voice sends a shiver down my spine.“Yes. I.” I swallow and try not to panic. “I took a wrong turn. Got lost.”There is a pause before he nods.. “You can fuck Cherie in her pussy, then put that big cock in my tight ass, Ok?”Unloading into my sister’s pussy had been awesome and really exciting. Her blunt suggestion that we also go anal brought a flush to my entire body. I felt heat and excitement and urgency all at once. I positioned myself behind Cherie, reached down to her dripping cunt and inserted my middle finger slowly. She raised against me and purred encouragement saying, “Fuck me again, baby!”I removed my finger and ran it.