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Since she hadn't looked at them, she had no idea that she had caught herself in the process of getting herself off. She handed Sarah the camera and refilled their wine glasses. She sat there silently sipping her wine as she watched Sarah scroll through the pictures. It didn't escape her attention that Sarah had started squirming around a bit and was biting her bottom lip. When Sarah sat the camera down her hands were shaking and she was breathing heavier than normal. Kathy noticed. “What?”, she asked her friend. “Are they not good enough? I know I took them myself, but the test shots I took looked okay, so I would think the rest of them are pretty good.” “Pretty good? You think these are pretty good? God damn Kathy, I am so fucking wet and horny right now from looking at those I almost came. They are fucking phenomenal.” Kathy didn't know what to say. She didn't think any of the pictures she took were worthy of that kind of reaction. Sarah could see the disbelief on her friends face. Without removing our clothes, we kissed, petted, and teased each other to utter distraction. Her favorite thing to do was to straddle me and grind against my cock; until I yelled uncle. And once I discovered she was ticklish there, my favorite thing to do to her was to nibble and suck on the section of her shoulder leading up to her neck.One week our schedules were so hectic -- she was doing inventory at the store; I was trying to meet a deadline on a story for Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine -- that we didn't have any contact other than a couple of brief phone calls.Thursday night, after plowing through a case of writer's block -- it only took thirty games of solitaire for this feat -- I finished the story and fell into bed at a quarter after eleven."Hey."I opened my eyes and looked at the clock; five after three."Dammit!" I spoke aloud, rolling over in bed. "Would you stop already!" You're the one who had the dream," my swollen cock replied.For the last two nights, my cock had.
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“I’m not even looking. Jason is a friend and a partner. Don’t be a bitch mother.” Was Ed’s reply when asked by her mother about settling down and raising a family.“Edna Olivia, do not refer to your mother as a bitch.”Not a single contraction throughout lunch from Mrs. Peters. The meal was decent. Both Ed and I ignored her mother’s shock at the amount both of us consumed. Including desserts. (We both had two entrees and desserts.)“Mother I eat a lot. So, does everyone else on the team. We have to. We burn calories too fast. Just consider us professional athletes.”When Ed said that, a serious frown appeared in Mrs. Peter’s eyes. We separated, I paid the check, the bench creaked on standing. I wasn’t sure of the etiquette in the Peters’ world, but I knew that those chairs would not last under my increased weight. So, booth it was.Ed’s quick glance wasn’t missed by her parent.“I don’t think your mother likes me,” I joked on the way back to Chicago.“She did like you, Jason,” I was.

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