“Yeah, I know.” I said proudly as I sat on my bed. “So you’re stuck in the 1960s, even though you’re not old enough to remember them.” He ...sked as he peeked in my private bathroom. “I was born in the wrong decade.” I replied. “Who told you that?” “It’s just how I feel.” “So what do you do for fun in here?” “I’m glad you asked.” I said with a sly smile. I went to my dresser drawer and took out a flesh tone dildo. “What the hell is that?” he asked incredulously. “You don’t know what this is?!”. Id gone to the mall every day after work since then, gone to the mall and wandered around like a flesh starved ghoul. Nothing worked, the mall felt dead. I felt like I was trying to jerk off drunk, banging and slapping at some flaccid piece of numb flesh. Knowing that it wasnt any good to try but pressing on anyways. It was like getting a handjob from a 73 year old man. I kept telling myself, shop as usual, and avoid panic buying, but my purchases mounted as I stopped even looking at most of. More

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