We ate talked and got to know each other a little over dinner. My body language was anything but subtle, I was pretty much screaming ‘fuck me!’ as...loud as possible. Near the end of it, in a low tone, he said, “Look…I’m a thick thirteen…some can handle it, some can’t. If you want it but have problems I’ll understand…I will only give you what you can handle.”I wanted to handle it…every hard inch of it!The guests were returning by then, some of them anyway. We talked off and on; I had a little. I thought back to the conversations that we had since we arrived, and realized that nothing had been said that would have revealed anything that would jeopardize us, except the obvious fact that all three women considered me their husband. Even when Mary and I made our amazing discovery, I realized that Mary and I were communicating on two levels: our words alone might not make sense to anybody listening. Of course, it all depended on how much whoever was listening already knew or. I wasn't confident in my youth. I was too afraid of girls to approach them and the thought of asking one out sent shivers through me. Besides, what good would it do to ask one out if all I wanted to do was put my face in her ass? The dating pool for that kind of girl seemed predictably small while the pool for face-slappers much larger.Girls were like goddesses. They were gorgeous and complicated and mysterious and--- gawd--- how I wanted to fall to my knees and worship them---I mean, just. Then I picked up her purse and handed it to her, went behind her and, putting my hands on her shoulders gave her a gentle push in the direction of the exit. I grabbed the book she'd been looking at off the shelf and followed her.Carol had obviously hoped to sneak out unobserved, and gasped when I grabbed her shoulder just as she was passing the checkout desk and said loudly, "Hey Carol, don't forget to check out your book."She had to turn around and rummage through her purse for her library.
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