"Would you ever think of trying something as dirty as anal sex?"
The question shocked him, particularly since it was being posed by the sweet young soccer mom that he had just been discussing the fine points of team play with. Steve's daughter Samantha and the soccer mom's daughter were on the same team, which played every Thursday evening.
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Sitting in the airport is never much fun, regardless of the reason behind traveling. I'm a seasoned traveler though and even despite all of the new security measures and increasing delays, it seems that I'm at the airport more often now than not. In fact, with my relatively new job, I'm traveling more now than ever. But who's complaining, right? After all, it's putting food on the table. I've never been one to complain too much anyway.
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Michael Halversun has a hard time recounting his memories, even now that he is safe in the small book laden office of his therapist. The twenty year old is filled with guilt, his voice wavering as he speaks into the tape recorder and his therapist sits across from him, listening to his tale. His upbringing told him that adultery was a great sin, and his masculinity told him that it was his fault. Whether either of those things were true really didn't matter any more to him. Michael had been raped.
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Let me tell you about my infatuation with my paper carrier. Before you start to think of me as some sort of pervert (which I may very well be) my carrier is not a young girl or boy. She is a very attractive woman in her early 40’s. I’ve known her for a number of years, even before she delivered the paper. Janet is very friendly and will always stop and talk for a minute on her route. A couple of times I asked her in and she would sit and visit. Every time she would come in however, my dick would get hard as a rock and I would look like a klutz trying to hide it.
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"You may enter the room now, sir."
A pause.
"Sir...Daniel?"
I was off in my own little world, oblivious of the kind voice speaking to me.
"I'm sorry," I offered, snapping back into the current reality. My eyes focused on the receptionist, a warm, middle-aged woman, smiling understandably at me.
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The day dragged on and on. Claire watched as the last few minutes ticked away. She had already organized her affairs and was now just waiting until she could go. It was Friday, so the traffic would be horrible, but at least she had a few days off. She longed to be home in her quiet apartment. Eventually, the clock struck five. She walked briskly down to the parking garage and started her car. She hurried and managed to get five minutes down the freeway when she ran into grid locked traffic. She sighed and turned up the music.
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