I was on the sofa with my ass on the edge, yearning for Wendys tongue to pleasure me. Lovingly, she buried her face into my sopping pussy, licking all...around and sucking my inner lips. I jumped with the sheer delight of her perfect touch. I felt my boobs, taking my nipples between finger and thumb, moving them about. I opened my eyes to see Greg behind Wendy. He got in closer, and I felt Wendy flinch as he entered her. Wendy had been fucked by a guy before, and although she said that he hadnt. She told me that her last dog, a Lurcher, had ‘seen to’ her on Mike’s ‘darts night out’ well into her late fifties. Meg joked that thanks to HRT it had been her old Lurcher who got ‘past it’ first, not her. As I vividly remembered her aged twenty two, squealing on the end of our Alsatian’s cock. I didn’t doubt it a bit.The nine females I’ve mentioned here were educated women too, mostly professionals. Meg was an accountant, one a small part actress, lawyers, a teacher, and the guilty Irish. I was a boy, who spent most of his life wishing not for specific toys orexperiences, but for the universe to shake itself back into rightness,and to let me wear the pretty clothes I loved.My eyes filled with tears, and a big fat drop rolled down both of mycheeks.I looked up at Santa.He had a tear running down both his cheeks too."Simon," he whispered, "sometimes children wish for things that Santacan't give them, no matter how much he wants to. And that makes Santaso very sad. It always has. . After that first song was nearly finished, the girl who'd hit me up for the dollar came over and slid herself into the booth across the way from where I sat."I let Dee pick out half the songs. She picked that one we just played. I picked this one." As she said this, "Everybody Loves Somebody" by Dean Martin started playing. "Why don't you ask me to dance, mister?" I would, except I can't dance." This was almost true. I could dance, but didn't want to make a fool of myself by staggering around.
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