It filled his hours and his days and provided him with everything he needed. Almost everything.He was lonely.He craved human touch. He needed the touch of a woman as a thirsty man needs water. He was slowly withering away in his abstract wonderland of intellectual delights.Then he discovered Sassanid Dynasty love poetry.The translations couldn't do it justice. Learning the old Persian dialects had posed no great difficulties for an accomplished language afficionado. The poetry, in its primordial, untranslated version, rang as clearly as a bell in the empty cathedral of his heart.His previous attempts to approach women had invariably ended in disaster. They either laughed or totally ignored him. In the shark-infested waters of the dating market, a balding middle-aged professor is dead meat.But the poetry, ah, those magic syllables, that hypnotic rhythm.Some crazy impulse made him walk into a dance club. The Snakepit was a maelstrom of drifting blue cigarette smoke, mirrors, flashing. " She said as a big clap of thunder sounded. She jumped into my arms shaking. "Can you come to my room and hold me till this is over, you can be the man of the house and take care of me." Kim said pulling my hand. She lead me to her room, it was still pitch black. We got into bed and she snuggled up to me with her back to me. "Just wrap your arms around me and hold me." She said. I did as she said and quickly realized she was naked. She pushed her butt up to my crotch. "Why are you wearing clothes? In my country if you are made the man of the house you get to reap the benefits." Kim said as she took my hand and rubbed it around her cunt, she was very wet and naked. I was not sure what the benefits of being man of the house meant. But I took my boxers off. The storm was really starting to get going. Kim cuddled even tighter and pressed her butt hard against my ever harding cock. We stayed like this for a while. I knew my cock had to be right at her pussy, I am pretty sure I could her.
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