I look right at him, while I continued fucking Jenna, her head thrown back in ecstasy. I could tell he wanted to stay and watch, but he kept driving.J...nna was writhing all over the front seat and she began screaming "Oh my God. You're making me come. I'm coming so hard."I could feel her pussy spasm as she came. My fingers were coated in her juices. I slid them out and looked right at her while I slid them into my mouth "Mmmmmmm ... delicious," I whispered.She couldn't take her eyes off me. She. I figured that I could still use the microphone to talk over the net.That is, if I ever worked up the courage to go back on the net. I knewthat Ai would be there waiting on me.It was too late by the time I finished to call my friends. Tomorrow, I toldmyself. Tomorrow, I would go and offer myself to legal aid for free. Iwould call my friends, and maybe even persuade them to go out to dinnerwith me. The excuse that I invented was that I had to isolate myself towrite a book.I would explain. Pharaoh's expression was more curious than anything else.As the monk chanted for Gozaburo, it occurred to me that I was honoring him in a way I never honored my real father. My Dad; the man who wore glasses and cooked and had brown hair like mine. I never honored his first year or his fifth or his tenth. I could hardly remember his face. I had no altar, no pictures, no burning incense. I didn't even know his name. This man, this Gozaburo, his name I knew. But he was not my father.He was not my. Near the ticket counter, I found a giant map of the U.S. on the wall. I loved maps. It had little red dots showing where all the Greyhound bus stations were. I was trying to count them when a commotion started behind me. "God dammit! You trying to rob me?" A big old guy hollered at the clerk behind the counter. He was wearing one of those wife-beater T-shirts; it was filthy, his gut protruding comically between the mismatched suspenders holding up his cut-off jeans. He was unshaven, and.
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