He almost staggered, as if he was struggling to carry the weight of the past on his shoulders. That night I went home and tried to drown my guilt in ... bottle of wine, and forget the sadness that I had caused to appear in the man’s eyes. His pain was so obvious and still so intense, even though he had lost her so many years before. As I lay in bed, my head spinning from the Shiraz, I decided I had to help him. I didn’t know how, but I knew I had to help him feel better. As I started to fall to. Although I was literally melting at his slightest touch, I found his comments rather arrogant."Isn't this your girlfriend?" I asked the black thug, referring to the brown-haired girl kneeling at his feet."Girl, don't worry yor' pretty lil' head about th' bitch. Diz' is about you and me." he said with such firmness.He then looked down to the white girl at his feet and directed his next comments to her."Bitch, kiss my feet while I talk to diz' fine piece of white azz." he ordered her.Shockingly,. When she at last reached me I saw something in her eyes, I don't know what, not hate or fear but something, something to make me dream at nights. I gave her a big hug and a kiss, was it my imagination or did my hug last just that little bit longer than everybody else's. For some reason I couldn't get her out of my mind, and the pictures didn't help any of course. I'm no photographer but they had come out rather well and I would often boot up my computer just to have another look.I hadn't. “Julie Mcintosh!” my newly acquired friend exclaimed as she pulled me into the rest room. I had no idea who Julie was, but quickly surmised it was the young lady being butt-fucked at the sink. The guy didn’t stop and the girl leaning over the sink seemed lost in her own little world.The young lady who had dragged me back into the restroom, shimmied out of her cocktail dress and tossed it on to the countertop. She proceeded to drop to her knees right in front of me, unbuckling my trousers in the.