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’ The self-criticism went beyond the occasional lately. He reached down and felt his gut, the extra flab hanging over his belt, and he understood that he was no longer the same man—the handsome, dashing man he had been in his youth. Getting older and fatter, lazier and lunatic. He needed a woman indeed, if only to prevent his slow disintegration. A man can’t do it on his own. Women, probably, but not men. And the caliber of women he had been used to would never have him now, money or no money, Porsche or no Porsche. Amanda, though, knew him better than anyone, or at least knew of him, understood his desires, and they went beyond poetry. He actually thought it possible to find Amanda again through the thickets of their divergent lives. If only he could find a way back to her.The divorce had made her a stubborn woman, a woman way ahead of herself, trying to be tough like him. He smiled at this idea, because he remembered when she wasn’t so stubborn, when she lay under him like an open. Her skin was so soft and warm I could feel my cock begin to swell even as its latest performance still dripped from its mouth. Tara looked back at me and smiled softly, once again seeming demure. I leaned over to her face and kissed her. She raised herself up on her elbows. Her breasts pendulous and her hair a little mussed, she looked like a mid 1960's pinup. Softly she said once again, "I told you I'm not...normal?" With a hint of question, and a hint of fear. I assured her warmly without reservation. She put a hand on my neck and kissed me. As she rolled onto her back our lips locked in the sweetest kiss I'll ever know. All I could think of was her. And then I felt something I could not comprehend. Skin. Her. But not her. It could not be. Her lips sensed something and kissed me deeper. Her hand took my cock, and her eyes looked deeply into mine. She said again, "I told you. I'm not normal."I did not know what to think, but her lips, her hand, her body, pulled me.
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