Trust me, I know. It’s one of a few things I can truly speak of with experience. However, it can be done. No need for bitterness when faith, courage...and intelligence can get us through most of life’s tribulations. Let no one tell you otherwise. My name is Jackson Saint Michel and this is my story. Many people make assumptions when they meet me. I stand six feet six inches tall, broad-shouldered and muscular, with dark brown skin and an overall clean-shaven look. I don’t like hair on myself.. It was really a contradiction that struck him as amusing.On the one hand, he saw a hot piece of ass with a booty that would inspire a Saint to sin in a way that would certainly require oodles of contrite penance to offset the transgression against right-thinking morality. In contrast, he had ample documented proof that the little bitch was full of promises but might short on performance when push came to shove in nocturnal activities.He had caught her with her hand inside her panties sniffing. She was perfectly happy to walk around the house naked and I followed her lead.We pulled the sheets off the bed and she stuck them in the washer and turned it on while I made the bed. That seemed to surprise her."Huh! You really are domesticated aren't you?" I like to think so," I admitted."That settles it, you definitely get that second date." Thank you ma'am, I'm most appreciative." What do you like for breakfast?" You want me to stay?" I asked, slightly surprised. "Won't Tina notice?" Hah!. I hadn't been back since Thursday and the place looked forlorn."Sorry to leave?" he asked, standing diffidently by the door, letting me assess what I wanted."Hardly, in the circumstances," I smiled at him. He was looking at me intently. He suddenly reminded me of those ascetic, bearded figures of the Magi adoring the infant Jesus in a fourteenth century books of hours."Robert, are you adoring me?"He was silent, pensive, his face becoming closed and inward looking. Then like the sun coming out.