“Then it makes you hard when I do this?” She asked as she shimmed, making her firm little titties shake and bounce under the thin shirt.“God yes...” I muttered.“So then it really was me that made you men hard!” She proclaimed happily.“OK, yes. The Viagra only helped us keep our erections longer.” I replied truthfully. “So did you know about your Mother’s plan?”“No, I had no idea. But I’m glad she did it.”Once again I sat in stunned silence.“Why?”“Because it kept the party going for longer.” She. Long ago, I discovered by accident I had a talent for what I do. Some of us are lucky enough to know what we are good at and how to take advantage of it. And not all of us do so in the most noble ways. Just like you may recognize not having the stomach for the darkest deeds, though you may fantasize about it, at least you have an imaginary outlet: fiction. For years, I wrote essays on self-improvement, mainly speaking about the masculinity, considering myself a self-made macho, but it didnt get. Moving to her table quickly, I gestured towards my glass and pointed to her. She looked me over carefully, studying my face intently for several moments before nodding at the empty seat across from her. Signaling the bar, a drink arrived almost instantly as five dollars were swept from the table. I tried to learn her name or anything about her, but she only smiled a distant smile, almost looking through me as if disenchanted by my presence. The band sprang to life with an ear shattering. He smiled, his eyes wrinkling. I attempted to look away, but something stopped me. Something soft, tugging onto my lips; his lips. He was kissing me! His lips at first were soft, gentle, and closed, but that all quickly changed. His lips began to part, and I could only go along with the ride. I could feel his tongue lightly caress my lips, then enter into my mouth. I was shocked. I held on for dear life, making memory of every little thing; how he tasted like cherry soda, how his lips were like.