I could already feel the crotch of my jeans becoming tighter. ‘I hate parties.’ he said suddenly. ‘I even hated them in high school.’ ‘Then ...hy do you come?’ I asked. It was what I was supposed to say, what I was expected to say. He knew that. ‘Because,’ he answered, cocking his head to look at me, ‘you ask me to.’ ‘Aren’t you accommodating?’ ‘Can I smoke?’ he asked, eyes still fixed on me, acting like he hadn’t heard me speak. ‘I didn’t know you smoked.’ ‘Can I?’ ‘Roll the window down.’ That. I was wearing a sluttytop,and faded jeans, and we were vegging out on the couch, watching "MurphyBrown" reruns.I'm fairly cute--tall, blonde, nice rack, or so I've been told, and Clovis and Iwere relative newlyweds...he was all over me much of the time. And that Fridaynight we began necking on the couch, Clovis was rubbing his crotch against myleg like a dog, pretty much, andI was swapping spit with him quite happily.At some point we made it to the bedroom. Clovis stripped me down and. More

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