Or if I saw someone beautiful, I’d think they were more powerful, more special, just… more than me. Now when I see beautiful things I see waste. ...I see time wasted. I see days upon days melted away into nothing. Pictures that bring back no memory, faces that no longer make my pulse race. When I see beautiful people, I feel sorry for them. Beautiful people have so much further to fall, so much more disappointment to feel, when at last the final glow fades from their cheeks and that sparkle dies. The girl loaded the concoction with extra hot fudge and whipped cream and she thought ruefully of the calories as she dipped her spoon into the luscious combination. "Won't you join me, Miss Minnie?" Just a black coffee for me," the clerk said, "I don't never eat any of that sweet stuff. Where would I be now if I'd of been eating them sundaes for thirty-three years?"Sally paused, spoon raised. "How long did you say?" Thirty-three years. I been working right here in this store since I was. I didn’t even think about what I was doing as I climbed back on top of my sleeping mother. Her legs had closed and I had to put a knee between them to spread them so I could get between her legs. I felt her head move and she made a sound in her sleep. I still didn’t know how to make happen what had happened before, so I simply did what felt good and that was to rub my stiff prong against her. She was still slick, though that slickness was now cold against my hot cock. I felt the bottom of my. I feel my asshole tingle. Our eyes lock again as I feel my way down to the carpet, assume a crouched position and go to work. Kissing his hairy belly and inching off the shorts, shimmying them down his legs and over his knees. He smells like campfires and engine oil and black leather. I take in another deep breath as I head for the cock. Pulling and tugging on it and batting it against my cheeks. Tongue tip dancing and darting, my ass has begun to quiver and I climb out of my masculine attire..