I Think It's The Same Girl, Not Plural, Just...

She wasasleep, lying on her back, one arm thrown over her face,the other trailing off the bed and to the floor. Herbreasts rose and fell with her breathing. Her face sosoft and luminous in the darkness. I stood and watched and squeezed my cock in my fist,pulling and milking, building my arousal, drinking herin as my cock-tip drooled down its shaft makingsquishing sounds as my hand traveled up and down, up anddown.The sense of transgression and trespass I felt when Istepped across the threshold and into her world wasprofound and unbearably erotic. I haven’t been alonewith her like this since I was a boy and she was ateenager. Breathing her air and moving hard and nakedthrough the space that she occupied evoked memories andfeelings that shuddered through the twisted, pumpingstick of meat between my legs. I felt them as if theywe’re new again. I experienced them as somethingdeliciously unexpected and wanton. I felt that horriblesurprise I felt so long ago when I realized. I’m interested in hearing them as well.”I looked at both of them and said, “The five words every man dread having a woman say to him, above all other things, are: ‘Honey, we need to talk.’”They stared at me for several long moments, blinked, looked at each other, and started laughing. I took the opportunity to eat my breakfast. The entire time I was eating, the two would calm down, look at each other, and start laughing all over again. Finally, when I was done eating, Mrs. Mendoza asked what had brought this up.“I was asking him why he didn’t sleep well last night. I thought it might be because he killed that man yesterday, but that wasn’t it at all. It was the five dreaded words. But I never said that yesterday.”“Yes, you did, Anna. You didn’t realize it but you meant exactly that when you told me you wanted to talk more about the fight this morning at breakfast. To a man, that’s ‘woman code’ for: ‘Honey, we need to talk.’”That started them both laughing all over again. When they’d.
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