On top of that the message he wrote me was clear, coherent, friendly and made my cock rock hard just reading it. He said he was in the same situation-...attached, bi, recently got into CD and wanted to dress up with another CD for the first time. He said that although he wasn’t smooth, he was willing to become so if I would too. He also said he was into porn, 420 and more, and was looking for a slow, relaxed, all night meet where we could really take our time. Everything was perfect, and I could. As he was ready to lay her on the bed, he spied grandma’s old rocking chair in the corner of the room. It was stacked with clothes and seldom used. It was a family heirloom, but with none of the grace of a fine antique. It was obviously hand made but just as bviously without the fine touches of a master craftsman. It was thick in the legs and rungs, made to be sat on rather than looked at. It had no arms and an unusual seat which was wide at the front and very narrow at the back. The back was. On the way, Eric Johnson kept on pumping me for details about why Skip was having me tag along with him."Come on, Eric, I've told you all I know. If you want to know more, ask Skip yourself." Fat chance he'd even talk to a lowly scrub like me," he complained. "Why you, Porter? Are you the anointed successor?" Oh, give it a rest, would ya? I don't know, I don't care. I just want to play the game, you know?" Maybe he don't like black soccer players. Maybe he's got a thing for your skinny ass.. Anyway … she plops herself down in front of him the other day, and he says that it’s starting to come back to him now.’ ‘You suspicious?’ ‘Well … normally … yeah. Except the first person he calls is me. And he spills out this story about the stealing going on at his company. On top of that, when we found this guy, it looked like someone had tried to whack him and screwed it up. He says he still can’t remember anything about what happened that day. His wife, if that’s who she is, says he went to.