Since that night, I practiced the technique continuously, often with devastating effect. Sheila was the first subject to shrug it off. When her turn c...me, Sheila put me in my place with five short sentences, using single syllable words. Damn, she was good. Fortunately, I had family history on my side. In Newark, that meant paella.Dinner at Casa de Espana was a tradition and a rare privilege. Once we were seated I could tell I was not the only one Sheila had burned verbally. Sean also wanted. She was wearing the shortest of panties with fine lace, and just covering her crotch, in a shinny gold colour. Her hips were really wide and her shoulders narrow. A pear shape figure, just a little more bulbous at the bottom. Her breasts weren't as large as I first though, must be the bra's that gave one that impression.I called to her, "Very nice indeed"She replied with a smile, "I am glad that you approve."Then she turned her back to me and walked out of my view.We all got up, performed our. ” Mariel’s fingers released their tender hold upon her at that moment. “ Not yet Celine….”‘…sssssssssssssssssss …’The sliver of sound born of involuntary, mind-numbing levels of restraint, and unbearable pleasure-pressure. Now explosively. Dramatically vented. It was an intense but temporary release. Of a sort. One which he would come to crave as well as dread in equal measure.Without even the faintest scintilla of further physical contact a fiercely expressed plasma of milt shot upward from. Too kitschy, idealized, cutesy. But Wyeth? Sean loved Wyeth, thought he expressed more in a perfectly executed portrait or landscape than Pollock ever did with a shitload of drips. Where was the technical skill in dripping paint, for Chrissakes? No, Sean was convinced, the real artists combined technical virtuosity with deep emotion, their paintings said something more than ‘My, isn’t this cute’ or ‘What the fuck is that.’ The real geniuses conveyed pain, suffering, and ambiguity all at once..