He slumped back onto the bed. Dutch was staring at him. “Not a pretty site, is it?” Moe said. “I’ve seen worse.” There was something off abo...t Dutch. He was dressed to the nine’s as always: tailored pinstripe suit, starched white shirt, gold cuff links. But he had a look about him—a little more strain around the eyes, a little less punch in his step, and he was fiddling with the hat in his hands like a nervous groom. “How’s your wife, Dutch?” “Listen, Moe, that’s what I want to talk to you. He bended them a little, so they would stimulate the walls on the upper side, where I was a little more sensitive than at the others and kept fingerfucking me this way. I had never thought that John was actually in love with me, willing to please me rather than to fuck me, and this was all different than I had imagined my first time. Home-me surely was pissed now, where I had someone loving me going down on me and eating me out, rather than using me and throwing me away as she wished for me.... More

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