I drink Jameson’s because it has some complexity of flavors, but more important it is generally available in the US, without going to a specialty st...re in a big city and paying $100 or more a bottle.The truth is, you can’t be a real whiskey gourmet and be the guy put on a pension for being a crazy drunk at the same time. Only really rich people can afford to buy beautifully crafted, small batch whiskey. The need for aging makes whiskey expensive. The maker has all his investment tied up in. Once they’d walked to a restaurant and were sipping their drinks in a cozy booth, it seemed entirely natural that he should ask to kiss her. The sparks that had flown as his lips caressed hers had caused dinner to be forgotten, and they were soon in a cab heading to his apartment.It was out of her usual character, but she could hardly regret it when that night they’d enjoyed each other’s bodies on practically every piece of furniture he owned. There was no awkward morning-after escape; instead,. I sat on the bench in front of him. Cupping his balls in my hand I brought his cock to my mouth. Running my tongue around the head I got a taste of my sweet wet pussy. I ran my tongue around the sulcus, that lip on the helmet that had caught and stored some of my tasty wetness. I began gently closing and opening my mouth, so my lips were able to join in the fun but my tongue still had priority. His raging hard cock tasted so good slathered in my juices. I ran my tongue down one side back. It is Beauregard T. Appomattox, a wealthy southern gent, owner of a lucrative okra plantation in Richmond. He was firm yet gentle with a powerful baritone. Many nights after making ferocious love in his okra fields, Beau would serenade me with Randy Newman's "Sail Away." Occasionally he would ask me to dress like Mrs. Butterworth so he could croon "Brown Sugar" during cosplay. But due to his mechanical nature, our song was inevitably "Mr. Roboto."Finally, the day that will live in infamy.