She loves me. A lot. Too much, actually.”“You can love a person too much?” His smile makes me warm. It isn’t a comfortable warmth, but it isn�...�t unbearable, either.“Of course. Absolutely. It can be smothering.”“You could be unloved,” he points out.I don’t want to tell him I’ve been there, too. It’s sad. I don’t want to be sad today. Something about him cheers me up; I don’t want to waste this high. So I just nod and change the subject and hold on to the good feeling like it’s the only thing. And then, when all my peers have trudged up the drive and boarded the bus back to their own particular domestic paradise, I can begin the walk home. It's only five miles.***My name is Christopher. Christopher Anthony Leach. Chris to his friends, although he doesn't have many. I hover somewhere on the periphery of life, drawing vicariously off others' experiences. I ask a lot of questions, but if I ever want to receive answers I'll have to ask them out loud sometime.***There's no pavement. She looked up at me, lust coloring her eyes and told me to let her have it."I wanna watch you cum all over them," she added huskily. Then she looked up at me, watching my face contort in concentration as I pumped my cock vigorously between her tits. Although Angela wanted to see me cum, I was doing my best to delay my orgasm, afraid that I was of disappointing her, but she kept up a tirade of slutty remarks and horny encouragement which only made my task more difficult.I looked on in stunned. We moved our negotiations to their company headquarters this morning. You can reach me on my cell," he answered, his eyes fixed on the darkened, deserted kitchen. No wife there, and the dishes from his make shift meal were piled in the sink. "Anything unusual come up today? I tried to get you at the office this afternoon." Oh! Well... no, nothing special. I must have been tied up with John Stickner at the time. He got me through that mess with the Melrose account this week. I owe him big time.