He didn’t smell. He was clean but he never shaved. In the way that Vincent van Gogh always had a scraggly beard, he had a scraggly beard that he did...’t trim. Obviously his appearance wasn’t as important to him as was the faces he drew. In the frightful mess that his hair was always in, he’d cover his head with a baseball cap rather than comb or brush his hair, she wondered if he even had a mirror. * * * * * When the weather grew colder and Jerry stopped coming to the diner, she went to his. I mounted her and slipped my dick in, and we fucked like horny teenagers. All the stillness of the past hour and a half was gone. What a wild woman she had become! She began climaxing almost immediately, her body writhing so hard that it was not easy keeping my cock inside her. Her heels were kicking the small of my back, her lips were biting mine, and her fingers were kneading my ass cheeks. She wailed, even louder than her daughter did. I plunged into her again and again, each time eliciting. More

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