With each beer, her nerves subsided and it was time to get things rolling. We got there and Jerome welcomed us into the room with excitement. We chatt...d while smoking a dobie, which was quite strong, and things quickly escalated once it was done. I sat on the chair while Jerome stood wifey up and stood behind her, caressing her belly moving his hands slowly up to her breasts, his head nestled in her neck, kissing her softly. Her nipples hard and popping through her dress, I could see excitement. Love is an idea; it is not real. Nothing we think orfeel--especially feel--is real.Only the moment is real. The now. The incident and the event are real,but only as long as they happen, for memories, also, are unreal.Very well. Let me explain. Perhaps an example will help. My breasts arereal when their weight is in my hands--or yours. They have density, then;they are tangible; they are measurable. Unmistakably, they haveexistence. But, after the moment, when they are no longer held, they. More

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