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‘What room is Tom Parker in?’ you asked. ‘I’ll walk you down. I’ve got to adjust his IV.’ When you walked in the door the sight of your friend ripped through your soul like a scythe. In your mind’s eye he was still playing forward, passing the puck to you against Andover, helping you score the winning goal, and the State Championship. Winners never quit, do they? But this guy had quit, therefore it couldn’t possibly be Tom. But there was no running from truth that night. You wanted to check the name on the door because there just had to be a mistake. That pale yellow scarecrow wasn’t your friend, couldn’t be – no way! No fucking way! But it was. The eyes never lie and you could see it in those glassy-black orbs. You’d always loved him, and he you, the way best friends do. That’s why the betrayal hurt so bad, right? Best friends don’t stab one another in the back? You went to the side of the scarecrow’s bed, looked down into the stranger’s searching eyes one more time. What did you. She wore a black 1/2 -cup lace brassiere, black lace garter belt and stockings, and black stiletto heels, and a smile. She stood in the hall in front of the door to her room. ‘It’s time to fuck, big guy,’ she breathed as I closed the distance between us. As I picked her up to carry her into the room, our lips met in a crushing kiss. Our tongues met with a fury as they danced between our mouths. Her moan came from deep within and turned to a low growl into my mouth. I carried her into the room and stood her back on the floor. I touched both nipples at the same time and started to kiss her neck as I applied more pressure to her granite hard nubs. Her hands flew down the front of my shirt and it was on the floor within seconds. I helped with the button on my shorts and my cock stood proud and straight as her tiny hand closed over it. She pushed me back to the bed and as I sat down, she knelt between my legs and slowly stroked up and down my cock. My per-cum was oozing from the slit.
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