I get off him, tear my clothes off, and lay before him on the sofa, my legs spread wide, one hand fingering me, the other playing with my breasts. ‘...ake me Christopher.’ I wail as I orgasm, my hips coming off the sofa trying to get my fingers deeper. Christopher: God! I felt every muscle in body ripple as I gazed down at her luscious body squirming on the sofa and her fingertips pulling on her hard nipples. My tight white tank t-shirt ripped into pieces as I tried taking it off in some type of. He had been awake for two straight days occupied in thought, as though each second carried a profound weight. The women, like strangers, had left him. The cars had gone to sleep along the side of the street. The wind died and the snow stopped. He had little idea where to sleep, for he had completely lost his way, and oblivion followed him like an invisible stalker. He crossed the Boston Commons. The blackness beyond his immediate path beckoned him to move forward, an oblivion which made little. More

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