....I'm not a lesbian, you silly cow, I just wanted to humiliate her. I tell you what though, it was very hot! I took her home and she's still here!..........................I know, she's so ashamed...................yes and I've made her cum again, twice!...............she can't help it, I think she gets off on the humiliation, she sort of gets all overwhelmed and cries!.....................yes, she does anything I tell her to!................look you've got to come and see, it's so funny, but. It wouldn’t work.The stark truth was that I wanted to move back home.I liked where we lived but I’d come to recognize that it wasn’t my idea of home. I wanted our children to grow up like I did — in the slow-moving country, in God’s amazing masterpiece. I didn’t want them caught up in the hustle and bustle of a hectic city, living a life where people didn’t know their neighbors or ever get to experience snowmobiling or running in the woods.This difference between big city living and country. Thru all the years the friendship lasted, eventhough they would sometime fall out over on thing or another, in a short time it was over and passed like a storm. Silva noticed Sergei watching her a few times when he thought she wasn't looking his way, but she also not been drunk had indeed noticed him looking at her, not undressing her with his eyes, just looking, as if admiring her. Oh yeah some of the other men were staring at her, like they wanted to rip her clothes off and taste her sweet. The other guy was pale as fuck, dark blue eyes with a shaved head, and tattoos along his skin. A lot of his skin. Eric’s eyes lingered on him a bit longer than the rest of them, picking out shapes and images from the lines that adorned the man’s head and neck, and the arms exposed from his black t-shirt. Eric half expected to see images of wolves and shit, but no, the man had tattoos of dragons and mermaids and skeletons and flowers.There was a theme to the tattoos, at least. One half of him.