"And put an end to it." No, you're the one not satisfied because I have put an end to it ... That relationship is dead! I'm not going and that's final... Please don't mention it again." I put my foot down. Yeah we all know how much good that does, don't we men?Why all this debate about a high school reunion you ask. I will have to go back into my history and life to explain. Please bear with me.I have had two serious romantic relationships in my life. My first relationship, my first love, is the. Charles Wolfe, known only as Wolf in every bar he'd ever been throw out of, was mean and nasty. He stood six feet, two inches tall, and weighed a flabby but powerful 275 pounds. Bathing was not on his regular "to-do" list. He wore black leather boots, and faded grease stained black t-shirt. His dirty black jeans were held up by a chrome studded wide leather belt. He was a biker wannabe who had never owned a bike. And he was on a mission.Wolf got out of his old beat up Chevy and walked to the. She shook her head. ‘It’s okay.’ ‘Don’t hide how you feel from me.’ he said, looking into her eyes. She couldn’t lie to him. ‘It still feels warm.’ she said almost apologetic, and looked down, gathering her courage for what she was about to ask. ‘Could you..? What you did..?’ He stayed silent for a moment, then took her hand in his. ‘Come.’ he said gently and led her out of the kitchen and up to his room. He rolled up his sleeves while he had her retrieve the skin cream from his bathroom and. To be honest, I was getting tired of receiving those constant reminders from the subdivision central committee to kindly wear at least a bathing suit when tending my garden. I admit it was part of my scheme for rounding up spare cocks with time on their side and absent wives busy with the other social bullshit that went on at a frantic pace both day and night.I must confess that I was on intimate terms with most of the male neighbors and probably had more sex with some of those poor neglected.