“You have two choices,” he said. “Meet me for dinner and I’ll treat you like a lady or I’ll come out to see you and treat you like a whore.�...� “Come here and pick me up for dinner at 6:30,” I said. La Dolce Vita wasn’t the typical place for the parents of a college-age couple to get to know each other. It was more of the kind of place a man took a woman when he absolutely, positively had to get laid, or in Rick’s case, absolutely, positively had to apologize for being a ginormous jerk. Candles on. “Fucking fag. Make sure you stay away from me, you slimy worm.” The jocks looked on. “Oh, this is going to be good. Wait for it. Here it comes,” they snickered in anticipation. Brandon would jump onto his chest, locking his legs and arms around him like an octopus, then mash his lips against the attacker's. The effect was stunning. The bully would panic, his eyes bulge and thrash around trying to rid himself of this barnacle. You might as well try peeling off 50 layers of plastic wrap. Unable. I take the glass of champagne and pour some of it into her mouth, half in jest and half as a reward for her beautiful cock-sucking. Now she gets to dictate the tempo and reaching forward, I part her sleek black panties again and pour more champagne down over her febrile cunt. As she accelerates on top of you, I massage the champagne into and around her clit as you hold her steady by the hips and push deeper and further into her. Soon I hear a feral growl gathering in your throat and finally. It was a plain home office, with a set of shelves on one wall filled with binders, a stack of filing cabinets, and a bulletin board with some house and building information sheets neatly pinned on it. Propped up in the corner on one of the cabinets was the family’s old TV which Sara hadn’t seen since she was eight. She had assumed they’d thrown it out long ago. Seeing it in the corner, the bright purple spot in the upper right, brought back memories. Her dad’s desk was in the middle of the room.