Yeah I know those voids don't last that long but try telling an addict like me. I became grateful for the old "classics", re-reading my favorite stori...s kept the walls of the void from closing in.Every night, like my poor fellow addicted kinsmen, I could be found at my computer gleaning through new stories. We are constantly searching for that new "classic", always hoping to find one, bringing relief to the drought of many disappointing nights.An idea for a new story came to mind and I thought. . I am, and I loved – I love – Emma. I knew who I was marrying, though I probably should have thought more about my father's warning.Anyway, after a couple of weeks where sex – I could hardly call it 'making love' – was sporadic and perfunctory, a Saturday came round where I decided I had to lay the law down. She'd come in again after midnight – I stirred enough to check the time – and in the morning I waited in the kitchen to turn on the coffee maker when I heard her moving around. It must. “It’s been a while since someone as pretty as you held my hand.”I blushed slightly. “You’d better not let your wife hear you flirting with the nurses,” I mock scolded, smiling at him to show I wasn’t being too serious.He shrugged again.“I’m not married. That was my sister telling me off for not looking after myself and disrupting her plans.”I held his finger and pressed the button on the finger pricker to draw a drop of blood. He flinched slightly as the needle broke the skin. As I transferred. One of Gemma’s very characteristic orgasmic patterns is a sequence of three climaxes in a row, with hardly a break between them, each stronger than the one before. There’s a pause after the first, while she draws a few gasping breaths, then the second one begins to build. She doesn’t really do anything to start it; it’s as if some kind of dynamo deep inside her starts up and begins sending out pulses of erotic energy all through her body, and she gets caught up in the current – at least that’s.