But, I can’t see anything happening with any of our friends.”“I think you’re leaving Mike out of the equation. I’m not so sure he wants you ...to stop. When you go out to a show or classy restaurant, does he suggest going to an upscale hotel lounge to have some drinks?”“Yes! How did you know? I can’t believe you know what he does. We like to attend symphony performances at the Kennedy Center and a couple of times on the way home that’s what he suggested. But, I always say we can just go home. The. I tried to ignore the sounds — the snores of those who had gone to sleep on the benches, with their cloaks as blankets if they had them, the heavy breathing and the loud or muted sounds of pleasure or pain from those who occupied benches but slept not, the drunken laughter and the sudden curses from the tables were cards or dice were played, the occasional shouts for more beer or wine — the pub catered to both tastes — and among all those sounds, I dimly heard the voice of the story-teller. I. Even though I was not enamoured with the idea, I suppose I had accepted the inevitability of was about to happen. Because I knew that -- in Simul's peoples' history at least -- it already had happened, and by that time in my life I was way past the point where I could be bothered to cry over spilt milk.I just stood there, without speaking, glowering at Sylvia. Who at first looked a little nervous until Rose took a holier than thou stance in her argument with Doug, then Sylvia began to look a. I was already anxious for Sue to get home, and fill me in with the details.Two hours later, Sue walked in the door with a shit-eating grin on her face. She told me to take off my clothes before she would tell me about her massage. I did as I was instructed, and took off my clothes. My cock was hard. I slowly stroked my shaft as Sue began her story.She grinned at me and said, "Craig, to be clear, I didn't get fucked. I took off my clothes, and waited for Roger to enter the room. Normally, I.