The strength and delicacy surprised me. ‘I very much admired The Owl’s Story,’ I began. ‘Thank you,’ she replied, ‘I really care about tha... poem.’ ‘I could tell,’ I said, and looked at the floor. ‘Your story about the printer in the printshop and the gymnast on television was very real to me. I do watch television whenever I can find something good.’ Obviously she didn’t get out much in the evenings, I thought, I was a stupid bastard as well as arrogant in those days. Well, maybe some things. The eager animal whimpered lustfully again, its thickening red penis slipping ever so slightly out of its well-concealed sheath, the tiniest drop of semen appearing on its bright, gleaming tip. It knew what it wanted, but it was trained first always to please the mistress of the house.A mild shudder rippled through Jan's hopelessly turned-on being. The sheer eroticism of the situation, without any counterpart in her living memory, coupled with the mild dosing of whiskey she had subjected. My slow awakening was interrupted by a pleasantly warm, soft hand. My wife, Laura reached into my pajamas and grabbed my morning erection. She had always loved to play with it, she had been amused by this kind of function of the male body. Even now she began to fondle it loosely, pulling the skin up and down on the end of my cock.“Good morning, darling,” she moaned to my ear. “Did you sleep well?”“Oh, yeah...,” I moaned lustfully, with my eyes still closed. “I haven’t slept this well for such a. He hadn't been to this part of town. It was filled with abandoned warehouses. It looked like it was a ghost town. They turned into one of them. Rebecca got out the car first and ran inside."Mike is a bit unhinged," Amanda warned Brian. "He is a metal artist. Sometimes he lets things bother him a bit too much, and if he isn't taking his meds on time, it can be bad."Amanda led Brian inside. They found Rebecca talking to a tall, muscular man who was wielding a blow torch. "Who the fuck is this?".