This isn’t dining, it’s becoming a sexual food fight, and soon we’re both covered with sauce, spaghetti, bread crumbs, and Italian salad dressin...: faces, necks, shoulders, tits, asses, cock and balls, cunts, thighs, shins, feet, arms and hands. It looks like we’re covered in blood from all that sauce, as we literally eat each other both figuratively and literally. I coat my finger in olive oil and slip it into her, but the oil wasn’t necessary. She’s already sopping wet and receptive. A few. ‘Thank you. I promise you won’t regret it.’ She left half-an-hour later. I grabbed a beer, and parked myself in front of the TV. Monday night football. Four games in one weekend. I laughed to myself, wondering if it would ever happen again. I wouldn’t mind if it never did, in spite of two damn good games the day before, I was all football’d out. I had Jeannie in her playpen, and had to watch over her, but it’s not like that was a chore. I kept thinking back to what Kelly had said, and what had. More

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