“Look at you, you’re making an even bigger mess.” I rub my fingers in it and rub it onto her face. “Again.” I push her head back down, but I...don’t have to use much force. She slides it as far back in her mouth as she can, nearly to the base, and I groan. I want to feel it tickle her throat. I want to feel that ring of muscles contract around the head. I get so frustrated, I nearly start crying. I have to shift. I pull her up onto me and kiss her wet mouth. Her body feels good, sweet and lithe,. It was a hot late-August night but the porch was open on three sides, well-shaded, and there was a slight breeze. I really liked the neighborhood. It felt like going back in time.We shared an old wooden swing attached with chain links to the ceiling. Patrick rested his beer bottle on a nearby window sill while mine was cradled in both my hands."He's not doing real good," Patrick said. "Not as good as we hoped he would by now." What do the doctors say?" I asked him."They say a lot, but not much. More

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