Neither men needed to play games. They knew what they wanted. Within minutes they were next to each other, whispering in each other’s ear.“I can climb on your back”, whispered Walter‘I can lie on my stomach’, answered the man (his name was Andrew)“I have a carriage waiting’, whispered Walter“Let’s trade calling cards’, suggested AndrewThe men shook hand and traded calling cards as if they had made a commercial deal. “What about the ladies ?”, asked Andrew“They’ll take care of each other’, smiled Walter The men left the restaurant together by the side door. Walter could see Pamela sipping her Grand Marnier through a reflection in a mirror. They got into the carriage and Walter knocked twice on the wooden panel in front of their seat. The driver could not see them, but it was Walter’s own carriage, so it didn’t matter.Andrew and Walter kissed and Andrew made a move to get to Walter’s cock and suck it. Walter reminded him that they were close to his house and that it would be better in. She came when she joined me on the floor and I kissed her with a mouthful of her own piss!These things I remember!I get up off the stool, but lower my head and lick my own juices from it. That simple kinky little act takes my mind back to the mornings I woke up in her arms and kissed her, tasting my own juices on her lips.Or the mornings when we were probably both a little drunk from the night before and we'd enjoy a wet sixty-nine. We'd bring each other to a mind blowing climax, emptying our bladders into each other's mouth.We'd fall asleep then, on the urine-soaked sheets, to wake up later, sober, but still wanting each other.I walk to the mirror and kiss the full red lips of the girl I see there, her tongue would touch mine, but for the glass. Her nipples would caress mine - but for the glass... Sighing with the sadness of my memories I reach into the drawer: it used to be our drawer, our special drawer. Her panties are there - our panties - the ones we shared, the ones we put on.
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