The men rule and enforced only rules they like. We had arrived on a Saturday late in the afternoon, and the “cottage” was already available. The...e was still, fortuantely, time for the two initiations. Before the new girls get indoctrinated you’re still talking about “rules”. But after the initiations, they’re merely guidelines everyone wants to follow. Having the new girls get fucked, and more than fucked, by all the other men right from the start, pretty much clears the air. Afterwards,. -May 18thThe individual strands of gray hair had graduated into full-on tufts.This morning, Donna came into the bathroom before I had a chance toget out the razor."Oh," she said, surprised, "Nestor, you look so young!" Young?" I grabbed at my protruding plumage. "Look at all this grayhair!"Donna just laughed. "Nestor, you don't have gray hair." What?" Look," she approached me and grabbed a handful of her own hair, "it'sthe same shade of blonde as mine. It makes you look younger!"I stared at. The first thing that I noticed was that there were no strings on her bikini. The two round patches covering her nipples must have been glued on. They barely covered her areolas. The little white triangle between her legs must have been glued there too because when she turned around there was nothing at all in the back, except for the most impressive woman in the world.My wife is no slouch for a thirty-year-old but I married her nine years ago when Trudy was just nine years old. At thirty-six I. Ordinary American men and women have been pushed to the limit by the Recession. It’s turning normal people into criminals. You won’t believe the men and women I’ve had to arrest simply because they broke the law while basically trying to survive. I live on Ash Street in Brockton’s West Side with my partner of twenty years, Lawrence Jameson. He’s a tall, slim, dark-skinned black man in his mid-forties. A professor of literature at the University of Massachusetts-Boston. We’ve raised three.