“Geesh Dad, what was that for? You nearly took my head off!”“If I’d wanted to hit you on the helmet, I would have. Someone has to knock some s...nse into that thick skull of yours!”“What do you mean?”“I get the impression that you’re not a happy person.”“What do you mean, not a happy person?”“Your play at yesterday’s game was the shits, and it cost the team a win.”“I don’t see how?”“Your team lost by two goals and they were both scored while you were in the penalty box. I know you’re a better. That's what I thought and I couldn't have been more wrong.I eat breakfast at the same restaurant almost every morning and I have been doing it for the last ten years. I knew the owner and I had even dated her daughter when I was in high school. I knew all the waitresses and had grown up and gone to school with most of them. Being single, at least since my wife ran off with a truck driver, I spent a lot of time flirting with most of them. It was all good natured fun since all of them were. Aching to finish, but her enjoying the control she has over me. As we reach the two-hour mark, she asks if I would like to go back to work now.I whisper yes but beg her to let me finish. There is no way I can go back like this. Kissing my neck, she whispers, “Don’t worry, Papi, I got you.” Stroking me firm yet gentle, fast yet slow enough to enjoy it. I feel it boiling up inside me.I’m moaning more than I ever have in my life and squirming on her bed. Legs were shaking beyond my control.. A smattering of Irish freckles pebbled her nose and cheeks, with just enough color to catch and hold the sun's tanning rays. The look of health and vivacity was she, and he couldn't help but smile every time he caught a glimpse of her in a mirror or shop window.Feminine too. She spoke in a soft, unobstreperous manner, always polite but not syrupy to cause suspicion. Delicate was the word, delicate as fine Irish lace.She stood erect and proud, yet in a gentle unassuming way that couldn't help.