Now, the organist was in her early sixties and had been a widow for many years, so was as much at a loss as to what to do as he was. They both slipped... silently into church and over to the flickering lights. The vicar indicated a door to her and so she crouched by it and peered through the gap.In front of her was a man in his twenty’s, baring his firm arse and thrusting his cock through a hole into the next booth. The organist was in awe, it had been many years since she had seen a man’s lower. She turned to go. If I have one thing to teach you, it’s this: there are moments in your life when you can either kiss someone or not, and if you don’t that moment will never come again, and if you do you can never take it back. On my long nights of self-doubt where I list all my faults and failings, there is one golden decision I can cling to: on that night as Jean Martel turned to step off the subway train, I stood up and kissed her. She tasted like strawberry ice cream. She didn’t seem. I spoke in a calm voice, totally devoid of dramatics. I would have used the same tone of voice if I'd been telling them what day of the week it is. I am, after all, just stating an obvious fact.I could see that they still didn't get it. I was becoming more amused as this dragged on. They truly are clueless, both of them; so naïve. It's really adding to my enjoyment.I know what you're thinking. I must be a real asshole. But hell, I bet a lot of guys would do the same thing if they found. I could hardly remember, dreaming about Harry in a sexy fantasy because; I had not fucked my this boy toy in over 2 weeks and last evening also, when I had an absolute desire to have him between my thighs and fuck him good, I learnt that he was out of town spending some time with his divorced mother. Harold is a very sweet young chap; I found at a trendy café, near where I lived and saw him every morning as I sat with my coffee and a creamed bagel with lox; wondering what it would be like to.