Another week of disappointments (including a guy who looked absolutely nothing like his profile pic meeting me for coffee and proceeding to ignore me ...hile texting) left me extremely frustrated. I messaged PaleWriter again. Dinner at my place?Things went better this time. He loved my lasagna and my kitty Tiger liked him. We played some gin rummy and watched some TV, but still no spark. I had decided that after the show ended I would ask him to go home and then I would go to bed, alone once. He had a nice big cock and I couldn't wait to ride him. After a few more minutes of sixty-nine, John laid me on the bed and climbed on top of me. He pinched and nibbled on my nipples as he worked his way up my body, stopping when the tip of his cock touched my labia. He paused there. "Stick it in, please." I begged. He took his cock in his hand and stroked it up and down my labia, ever so slightly between them. He got a big grin on his face and pushed inside me as far as he could. It felt. Was it her? It had to be. He couldn't wait. She seemed to be gone forever."Yoohoo, Andy?" He heard her voice from inside."On my way." He made his way through her apartment looking in both bedrooms expecting her under the covers of her big, four poster bed, but the comforter was perfectly flat and smooth. He looked in the closets and no Jackie."Where are you?" He felt lost and there was no answer. Did she bale on him? He checked the other room then saw the same images from his phone tacked to a. Dammit, there was no way I was going to get any information from a dead man! I dragged him to the other side of the alley and hid his body in some brush.I went back into the saloon and sat back down in my former chair. I listened to the men talk a bit more, then one of them said, "Where the hell is Hiram? I guess that I better go check on my brother." Well that explained why his name was Ephraim Smith.I debated about making another trip to the jakes so soon, but I figured that this was too good.