She looked at me with a crooked smile. “No. Do you?”“No, no boyfriend, girlfriend, spouse or significant other.”She turned toward me, tucking ...er legs under her. “Why not? You’re what, twenty-eight?”“I haven’t met anyone whom I wanted to marry, I guess.”“Oh.” She looked down at her hands. “You haven’t met any girls?”I opened my mouth to reply, but something in her manner gave me pause. Maybe the beating I had taken shook something loose in my brain, but I began to think about our interactions. There is one memory that always sits on top of the happy jumble as if carefully placed there so I'll always find it when I want/need it. It's the one I always come back to, whether I'm idly daydreaming or slowly masturbating to thoughts of you. It’s forever etched on to my mind so I never lose it. My jumbled memory puts us on a sunny Sunday, browsing the market a couple of hours after you woke me up with my stiffening cock at the back of your throat. The brightly coloured clothing on the. More

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