My fingers found the way to part her wet slit and gently traced the inside of her lips, spreading her moistness all around. I slid one finger deep in...to her hole, her honey tasting juices flowing like a river as I gently massaged my finger in and out of her. I could feel her knees starting to tremble so I guided her into the bathroom and hoisted her onto the sink counter. I kissed her neck and stared deep into her beautiful eyes as I inched her pants down exposing her freshly shaved sopping. So for the last four years ... nothing.She came home to eat and sleep. Why we didn't divorce, I have no idea. Even the kids told me I was nuts for staying with her. I guess that having loved her and having been loved by her for so many years it was difficult to break away.I had thought about having and affair but it always seemed that they never worked out. Somebody always gets hurt. I did become very familiar with Rosy Palm and the five finger sisters.One Friday night about a month after I. Neither of us wanted to sleep on the cot and I couldn’t sleep with him there anyway. It was almost 5:00 so I headed out to the donut shop. I didn’t drink coffee when I first moved to New York but now I did. It’s cheap and comes with refills and sometimes they even give it out for free at churches and stuff. Plus, it buys real estate. You can park in one spot for a long time with a cup of coffee and a book. I was reading a book called Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, about this kid who loses. The word comes from the French word to fart."Annie giggled. "I thought it meant some sort of rope thing you use to lift something." Hoist in this sense means to be..." He made a gesture of a bomb exploding. " ... thrown." Oh, I get it." She began writing on the paper. "Blown up with his own bomb." Precisely." He regarded her writing a paragraph, longhand. "Why don't you do that on the computer?" he asked."We're not permitted to. This keeps us from using copy-paste. Mr Clark says this way, even.