A high pitched shriek in the middle of the night disturbed his slumber. His heavy eyes narrowed in exhausted despair. Hurricane Katrina was brewing in...the distance. It took all his strength to drag himself out of bed. In the distance, he heard the familiar symphony of bipolar rage exploding against the walls. Shaking off his sleep, he staggered past the kitchenette into her room. He needed to get there before she hurt herself. ‘Can you fucking believe what he did?’ came the enraged voice.. This might be a disappointing experience, I thought to myself.As I played with myself in my jeans, a 40-ish guy moved back from one of the booth doors and sat on my left. I showed him my cock and he reached out for it. He gently stroked it and it began to respond. I reached behind him and began rubbing his back. My hand slipped down behind him, and I discovered he already had pulled his shorts down, exposing his ass. I caressed him softly and flicked my fingernail against his anus. “Not. Angela had gone to sleep, holding me and smiling peacefully. She didn't move, not even to breathe, just as she'd been in the car in that parking garage. Her skin was cool, although she'd been warm enough during our sex. My own breathing was slow and deliberate seeming and I'd experimented, holding my breath, and found I could do it as long as I desired. That was weird.My heart was beating, very slowly, but at least it was. I tried to make it stop, trying to find the nerves that controlled it,. When she married we were happy for her but he was a piece of shit and he knew our contempt as we would cut him dead in his tracts, when he showed the slightest contempt for her.'When God makes them, he matches them' was the in saying back then, and through time, as we all moved on, they drifted off our radar.In Stockholm not too long ago I met her, all swollen as she had been seeded and was now bearing the fruit of his loins, and about ready to drop.We chatted and after a few glasses of Red I.
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