I pulled up my summer dress and placed my hand on my navy knickered tummy. I looked up at the ceiling's peeling paint briefly as my hands slipped dow...wards. I closed my eyes and thought back to that first orgasm. The shelter swam into my mind's eye. I remember him entering the shelter for our third meeting in April. He was five and a half feet tall with a ruddy complexion and a balding pate with a hook nose. He shuffled in wearing a gaberdine coat and sat down. He had asked whether I. “Certainly, Mister Morgan,” she said. And she thought he wasn’t that fat yesterday. I’ll bet the dirty devil has his cock-head buried under his belt! It thrilled her. She might have been sixty and unsightly but, unknown to Morgan, she was a raving nymphomaniac whenever she was fortunate enough to lure a gentleman into her bed. As soon as Morgan had gone, she went into his private office. He had left his little sketches on his desk and she looked at them with glee. His tiny stick figures were. More

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