I sat in my living room watching the same young men walk up and hand her the money and leave.When the mailman came and went she got up to leave it was...time to put my plan in motion. I walked out the front door meeting her coming down the walk. “Hello I said am I too late ,no “she said and turned around going back to the porch. I handed her $40 and she smiled,” I was hoping I could see you again” she said. “Even better now I can feel just how that big cock of yours fill me” she was lifting her. It sets the scene and gives some insight about the behavior of the young subject of this narrative when he encounters the tipsy sexual attentions of two very horny matrons. Also, names are changed for privacy purposes.So many years ago; so much forgotten—but some memories linger.Their names were Constance and Elizabeth. The year was 1959. I was 18, just out of high school. Connie Kazmarek, mother of four, was 37. Her sister, Liz Campbell, mother of three, was 35. Connie lived in my town. At New. She looked at me with an odd expression. "Do you feel like a traitor." I had a really terrible choice. Tell the Russian thugs who had their missile, or allow radical thugs to have a huge weapon with unthinkable possibilities. No matter what I chose to do, somebody would see it as wrong. It was wrong to allow mass destruction, and wrong to betray my own people to strangers. In the end I chose humanity over lesser concerns." That is so inspiring," I said. After a moment I went on, "Now why did. It’s time for you heal that wound. I’ll even help you buy new furniture.”She stood and headed out. I got up and followed her. “I’m not clearing her bedroom out,” I warned her.“Nor should you. The study is a bad memory. Her room is a good memory. Entirely different. C’mon.”We paused work for bologna and yellow mustard sandwiches at lunch.By three, I was exhausted, hot, dirty and, strangely, feeling better. Broken furniture was piled at the end of the drive. The study was empty, swept and clean..