He tried holding his breath until he passed out. He tried having his boyfriend fuck him so hard his head banged into a wall. He even once tried lettin... all the guys in the a fraternity fuck his face until he was just positive sperm must be leaching into and shorting out his brain cells.Nothing seemed to work. Sure he felt a little dumber, but he wanted to be a vapid airhead. A total brainless slut.Then he saw an ad in the back of a porn magazine. Naturally he read porn all the time, magazines,. He asked me again about what I had seen during the trip and I told him but I didn't go into details. He asked me what I thought about it and I just played dumb and said that it was ok I guess but I thought it was weird. He laughed and said that lots of the boys do things like that and maybe I should experiment some and see if I liked it. I was a little freaked out by that statement but I said ok and nodded yes. he then reached over to my crotch and massaged my cock through my jeans like he had. Always before, the interrogator had wanted something from the subject. Nobody thought to ask the subject what he wanted.He looked up. He looked as normal as pie. He wasn’t even very buff. He looked like the kid who bagged her groceries at the commissary. If anyone knew appearances meant very little, it was Jane Addison.“Hi,” she said. “May I come in?”“Sure,” he said. His head tilted. He peered at her with a gaze much more direct than the average person.“My name is Jane Addison,” she said. Cards. It all looked slightly incongruous, but she was used to it.The two old timers, old lovers, Margie his mistress for forty years, were extremely comfortable in each others company, Bernie ever grateful for her mental and physical love, his beloved wife Rachel struck with Rheumatoid arthritus when she was thirty eight, too early. As Bernie flattened his tie pin, the insignia of the Kennel Club promoted thoughts of Rachel, at home with their two massive Great Dane hounds. The brindle bitch Schlom.