She didn't wait for an answer."I don't hate all assholes," Phil said in a whisper to me when Doris left the room. "I think yours is cute, little boy c...nt." She sniffed her fingers that had been inside of me. "Some assholes are sweet," she said.I could only gulp. At least there was one good thing about almost getting caught. I wasn't hard any more. Instead, I ached between my legs all the way into my stomach.Doris came back and sat down in the chair nearest my head on the end of the couch. Phil. As they used to say on the old TV series, Dragnet, the names have been changed to protect the innocent. These events took place in the early 1970s. It all started on an unseasonably hot Saturday morning in June at the Houston Flea Market. I traveled to Houston from Long Beach, California to attend a technical writer's conference at the University of Texas but stayed to check out the Houston Flea Market. The conference leader, an avid amateur photographer, told me that I could pick up pro. Vladimir stood to one side, his pants pulled up, his face a mask of uncaring harshness which was only broken by his eyes, which were filled with sorrow."How am I supposed to marry off a harlot?" asked Anna's father, stopping for breath. "Soon it'll come out that Sergei Ivanovich has a slut for a daughter. St. Pyotr, she even fucks her brother. And then you'll be no good to me at all." He turned to look at Vladimir. "Why did you let her talk you into it boy?" His face softened. "I'm not. I grinned.I quickly took the box to my 60 inch plasma screen hdtv in the grandroom. I found some wires to hook up the box and turned on my tv. Thescreen warmed up. Then a rainbow spectrum of color ran across. Thecolors were dull at first then brightened into a fun animation palette.The words, "Magical Anime Network," were superimposed over the entirescreen for a moment before the tv dipped to black. Then a vision of the sea greeted me. A warm ocean beach with tinyfigures frolicking and playing.