When, finally, she can no longer hold out against therushing tide of her release, the brunette drops down upon my poleone last time. She hooks her le...s around my back. She buriesher face in my neck, biting my shoulder through the material ofmy T-shirt. I feel her nails bite into my back. As for myself, I can but hold on. Both of my hands now holdher arching back as I feel her entire body tense. She isscreaming into my shoulder! I can stave off my own orgasm no longer. I hear. Modern Methodist, outercourse only. It was an explanation. I squealed, Me, too!We didn’t talk after that. We stripped each other’s clothes. Naked, he looked more like a god; I looked more like a lustful woman.I licked the head of him and then mouthed his cock; the cock of a god. Concupiscence extraordinaire. It made me hot. Wet. Available to give or receive an orgasm with this man.His cock was impressive. Tall as a monument. Hard like one, too. Girth? It was all flesh and all carnal. I drooled. And there wouldn’t have been so much goddamned conversation. *You think that you’ll always have this, no matter what. People come and go, fortunes rise and fall, but you’ll always have your vocation, and your passion for it. You don’t care if you become famous or wealthy (though you have plenty of moments, usually involving a little alcohol, daydreaming about that kind of thing).Famous or not, you still feel the thrill when you close yourself away and slip, sidewise and silently, into that. "Tony took the "L" four stops to his apartment, took a shower, changed clothes and straightened up the place in case he got lucky. He arrived at Butch McGuire's at seven-fifteen, ordered a beer and a burger. The crowd was just filtering in but no Trish. The truth was that Tony didn't really expect her to be there.By eight, most tables were full and it was becoming loud and boisterous. That wasn't unusual but if Trish had joined him, they would have had to sit in the back to hear what each of.