The fullness of his cock in me made me feel differently, a definite pleasure, one I would not be able to resist. For lack of a better term, Lawrence ...ade me feel like a woman, and not some piece of meat to be fucked. My mouth hung open as he pushed further and further, until he was reaching that place my husband just couldn’t, and only one other had in my life. It was a feeling of fullness that was somehow special. It was hard to explain, and perhaps still is, but a woman who has been. There she was, on the far side of the room, talking to a group of girls she didnt recoginize. Deb walked over to her, and tapped her on the arm. Terry turned, and hugged her tight. She yelled over the music to come over to their table. There was a group there she had came with, and Deb didnt know any of them. Terry introduced her to a few, then went to find an extra chair. Terry sat down next to Deborah, produced a glass, and poured her a beer from the pitcher on the table. Terry hugged her. I was well acquainted with Tom Poulton’s erotic drawings. They might well have been ‘secret’ when he drew them; but, 50 years later, I’m pretty sure that all of my fellow fine arts undergrad friends knew them as well as they knew the drawings of Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres and Augustus John. Sharing the same table as ‘The Secret Art of an English Gentleman’ were several more of publisher Benedikt Taschen’s racier offerings. And on further tables, a. She had the bedroom door ajar while I got ready for my day. I listened for a few minutes, I’m such a voyeur. She came out wearing a new leather skirt. It was knee length, sexy yet sophisticated. She had on a shimmering satin top. Tight around her breasts, but covered well with a business sport coat. Her heels were well shined without being stripper height. She left for work. She received her next text, ‘this needs to be inside the backside’. In her work bag I had placed a new jeweled glass anal.