When I turned 18, I was an experienced maneater, partyanimal and user. Nothing heavy, just some marijuana now and then, some snorted Ritalin and vodka...hots to make the party last longer, be more fun. To get me started. I had my hair to my waist, bleached an allmost white blonde, my skin covered in black and grey tattoos of trees, flowers and vines, all intertwined.This perticular friday night, I had my hair braided in two braids, some skintight patent leather tights in black and a bandeau top,. ‘Stop it!’ He hit her multiple times before she could get her hands on the paper and tear it away from him. ‘You’re so annoying.’ He made a grab for the newspaper that she dodged easily. ‘Aw, come on. Give it back.’ ‘No.’ She sat on the paper and crossed her arms, sticking her tongue out. ‘Child.’ ‘Idiot.’ ‘Brat.’ ‘Bully.’ ‘Maybe I’m going about this the wrong way,’ he mused. ‘Lang, you’re just the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.’ The poor southern accent he affected had the corners of her. After mingling a while and working my way to the back room with the gloryholes I started feeling a little more like my old self. Before I realized I was next in line and anxiously pulled out my hard cock. Not as big as some of the guys there but bigger than most. Looking down I thought not too bad for a 44 year old guy in a room full of 20 somethings.Finally it was my turn. Sure enough just like Ted had described, the warmest, wettest and hungriest mouth attacked my manhood. Even my ex. “We all know how that turned out.”“Did they disown her or something?” Sara asked, turning to look at me. She seemed surprised I knew all this. I knew a lot more than that.“More like, she was too ashamed to face them,” I shrugged. “Once I convinced her that shouldn’t be the case, they had a nice reunion a while back.”“Shhh. Here they are,” Sara said, waving her hands. A moment later, the pair of 60-somethings walked in with open arms.“Lawrence! What a day! What a place!” boomed Nicholas Moore, a.