.. I rang the doorbell."TONY!" Lenore screeched at the top of her lungs as she opened thefront door with a glass of red wine sloshing in her hand. "...hat theHELL are YOU doing here?"When her mom's away Lenore loves to play. And, she loves her wine.Judging by her slightly swaying body and flushed face this wasn't herfirst glass.That's another thing. Lenore is the screecher of all screechers. Idon't think she's capable of conversing at a level less than a hundredand ten decibels. I tried to. Without thinking too much about it, my hand had already resumed the task of rubbing, squeezing, and stroking myself from flaccid to erect. At the same time I was consciously thinking that this was odd, this was exciting, and this could be a psycho Lorena Bobbitt in my room. I continued stroking and she released the door handle and took a step toward me. Thoughts of odd and exciting were quickly shoved away by thoughts of psycho Lorena Bobbitt. When I stopped stroking and was just looking at her. More

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