We didn't do it often, but, in truth, I would havedone it every day if Wendy had suggested it. We were old enough torealize this game of "house" migh... lead to something "naughty," althoughwe weren't sure what that something naughty might be."You're more of a girl than I am," Wendy said one day."How can that be? I'm a boy."She laughed. "Look at you. You got arms like a girl." No, I don't," I argued, recognizing she was right but being tooembarrassed to agree with her."Show me your muscle. "Both," I said.We were sitting in my living room. I was on the couch. Wendy sat across from me in an armchair. We were halfway through a bottle of wine.For two months, we had been meeting up to fuck. When I met her, she was a bored soccer mom who wasn't satisfied with her married life. There had been an instant attraction between us. We'd been sneaking around ever since. Most of our time was spent in the sack. We had skipped over the "getting-to-know-each-other" phase."The stories aren't that. More

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