“I don’t know how they do it, honestly,” I said to my best friend Joyce, sipping my tea as she sat at my kitchen table. “What do you mean?” she replied. “Keep up the secrecy. These women are nothing but strippers and prostitutes, selling themselves for money. What I’m saying is, I really don’t know…
After Mary’s passing, I fell into a funk that some would call depression. Family and friends tried to help, bringing me meals and suggesting activities to join, but the truth is, I missed the close, comfortable relationship we had for nearly 45 years. The rush of driving her to orgasmic moans, feeling my cock buried…
As I settled into the familiar rhythms of my lake cabin retreat, a sense of melancholy washed over me. It had been a year since my wife passed away, and I had promised her I’d return to this serene haven one last time. The memories of our twenty years together still lingered, but the ache…