I never saw the Collector again, but Jillian was always waiting and even now, I blush at some of the things we did. On the first Saturday, she gave me...a hand-job in the carriage and a blow-job under the table of an Irish pub on The Haight. After that, we made love on the lawn behind the colonnaded bandshell in Golden Gate Park. And that was just an appetizer. Ironically, Jillian did have one phobia. She hated cars and most other modern devices except, of course, cameras. When we went somewhere,. "Wait! Wait!" she cried. "Let me inspect you closely!" With that she began to caress the face of each, turning her gaze from one to the other and back. Her hands made their way south. Breasts were hefted and squeezed, nipples inspected and pinched. Further downward, smooth tummies and slim waists stood above baby-bald pussies, still dripping wet. Firm, slim thighs ended the tour."You are both beautiful!" she cried. Both women were radiant, but tears flowed freely from their eyes."How can we. More

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