Mrs. Good-Times, my wife of thirty-six years, had already said she wasn’t going and didn’t see why I wanted to go. I explained it to her but she e...ther was more dense or less caring than her usual self and said I was an ass. Tank had saved my ass three times in a year in South East Asia. He had a small piece of lead in his shoulder from the third time. Yeah, I was going. I’d catch and recatch hell for it, but I was going. My truck already had the snow tires on. I had Mike at the station give it. Her legs were so silky smooth, so clean and tempting that she worked her way slowly upwards towards her sex. She couldn’t reach her vagina, and resigned herself to watching, listening while nuzzling into her leg, pecking occasionally with her lips. She felt so safe inside the robe, as though her problems had at last disappeared.The tongue explored her vagina for several minutes while Lauren lay on the altar, aware now and then that the film was still playing, still incriminating her, still. More

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