It fascinated him how a good artist could transmit any of a whole range of emotions with ink or clay or paint. It wasn’t that he didn’t like galle...ies, either. He and Paige had met in an art gallery – The Met, in fact. No… the fact was, he was dreading this opening, at this gallery, this night. There was something about the artist that Jack just didn’t like. Something about the way his voice could be lilting one moment, then rough as a lumberjack the next. Something about the familiar way he. Some had said to make it quick. In some stories, the goal was to make it painless; in others the goal was to leave no doubt about the fucking. James shook his head. He didn't want to rape Kristy, or make her cry. What he wanted, he realized, was for her to think he was a wonderful lover. No, he needed her to know he was a wonderful lover. He figured out what to do.Scooting forward, he asked Kristy, who was lying on her back, to suck his cock, to make it wet. When it glistened, he moved down, so. More

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