I’d like for you to still need me and still feed me when I’m sixty-four. Seriously, I’d like to see how things go.” After he signed off on the... check, he picked up my glass, gave me the last sip of wine he told me to leave behind, and asked loud enough only for me to hear: “My place or yours?” From the moment we walked into his house, we had our clothes off and got tangled around each other all the way to his bedroom. He threw me on the bed, held my arms down, looked at me seriously before. The room got even hazier and as I pulled his hair even harder he held my other wrist above my head as he went deeper inside me. I gasped in desperation as I felt him inch his way deeper. “Yeeeeeeeeees…” I moaned in pleasure. “Harder, harder!” Hearing this he began to grind his hips into me intensely. I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head as my legs locked behind his back. “You like it don’t you? You like the way I’m fucking you? Huh baby?” he asked as he continued to thrust into me. “I get home--we have a little trailer, I mean, for a doublewide it’s pretty little--and who is sitting there but Sammy. Now, Ian is taller than me, but he has a small frame, beautiful eyes--so pretty--and wavy hair; but Sammy, well, Sammy is practically a giant. He’s over six feet and built. Sammy, and I used to work together at a furniture store. He was a mover, then he was a moving foreman, then he left to start his own moving company. That didn’t work, but his brother hired him to work as a. That's right." Men!" Well, damn it, it's not caused by my having evil designs on your hot bod," I told her, a little indignant now. "If you knew anything -- anything at all -- about men, you'd understand that sometimes, in the morning? When they first wake up? And they have to urinate? They get hard."She laughed. "Must make it pretty difficult, getting the job done." Normally, it's manageable," I told her. "A little awkward, maybe, but nothing that can't be... handled." So. Right now, you need.