Single. Back to square fucking one. You know, when you make a clumsy, abortive pass at your best friend when you’re twenty, it’s charming, at twen...y-five, amusing. At thirty-eight, it’s absurd. This brings us to New Years’ Eve, when I found myself being kissed and caressed on a soon-to-become twenty-minute trek to take out the trash. Fortunately, none of my other friends had the wherewithal to clean up, our absence went slightly, drunkenly noticed. After some animated snogging and furtive. "Perhaps..." His voice had turned thoughtful, and I chanced a puzzled glance back over my shoulder just in time to see his hand coming down toward my ass.SMACK! The solid sound of flesh on flesh filled the room, and he did it again. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! I cried out, trying to wiggle away, but he grabbed my hips, pulling my panties down to my knees, and kept going, a steady rhythm, over and over. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!"Please Father!" I sobbed. I'd forgotten all about hiding my pain, my fear—and I. A walk I was not looking forward to, knowing parts of me would soon be exposed to the sultry summer heat. I had by now become accustomed to the mob mentality, the feeding frenzy, that never failed to materialize whenever I set foot in any adult theater but I could never quite compartmentalize those feelings that surfaced when I walked brazenly through the general public, in one of my slut outfits. That frightened me more than what might happen to me in shark infested waters.We napped, ate and. "Once again my pleasure Amy," she smiled. "Now get the car loaded, Ihave to be away, you've made me late. Chop Chop." She clapped her handsI ran up the stairs, wincing with the excruciating pain at every step,grabbed the bags and went through the kitchen and out of the back dooraround the house to her car, loaded up the three heavy bags and returnedto the kitchen. She was picking up her handbag and she held out hercheek for a kiss which I dutifully did. "Tell your mistress that I willphone.