"Do you mind?" she giggled, turning to me. "Can I have a little privacy, here?" she laughed and shooed me into the bathroom. "Get the water ready, you...g man!"I dragged my eyes away and soon the steam was rolling from the shower stall. I waited in the rising steam, writing my name on the glass over and over until the door opened and the lower half of my mom appeared.The triangle of hair was dark and curly and I could see the split between her legs through the soft curls.This was the ritual when. A stethoscope hung over her neck, and a clip board in her hand. Her hand came out and she shook mine. She then raised my feet onto the couch, and asked me to remove the gown.She helped me pull the gown off my shoulders, I could feel my nipples harden as the cool air brushed them. Her hand came up and she cupped my breast, feeling for any problems, as she jotted on her clipboard, her hand seemed to rest on my breast, her thumb casually lying against my nipple.My imagination must have been. At some point, I started touching and kissing some woman who seemed to be the one wearing THAT perfume. We made contact without saying a single word, as it is usual in that situation. Enjoying each other's mouth, and enjoying feeling each other's hands going further each time. After a funny while, she ended pulling me to a corner where some handles were placed in order to try different sex positions.It was then when she asked me for a condom, using voice dirty girl-like voice. It didn't help: I. Suddenly, another sound draws your attention. As you turn to see where it’s coming from . . .. . . your eyes open. You aren’t a secret agent, you own and run a large business, and you aren’t in a manor, you’re . . . not sure where you are.After a moment, you get your bearings: you’re sleeping on your friend Niall’s couch. You’re not homeless—well, technically you are, but it’s only temporary and not your fault. Four years ago, you moved in with your girlfriend April. Four days ago, she kicked.
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