There was a man who raised funds to help young men lead productive lives and walk away from a life of crime. He encouraged them to attend college and leave behind the mean streets of Urban America. He spoke to educators, community leaders and parents of young men about the Crisis in Male Education. He wanted to help the young men of tomorrow. This man met his untimely demise when I directed a bunch of cyclists to running him over in a terrific melee. There was also a wealthy woman who assembled. The truth of the matter was that his demands made her so excited sometimes that she had a quickie orgasm before things even got hot and heavy. It was something she would never admit to Mister Jensen and certainly would never tell anyone else because it would reveal the depths of her depraved thinking about illicit sex.She saw Clark squeezed in behind a hefty attractive middle-aged woman with hips that promised a nice ride downtown between two soft pillows. He didn’t seem to mind too much. Everyone else in the bar seemed to be In their own little groups. Some were hanging out at the pool table and some were sitting in the booths that lined the outer wall. Chatter filled the bar and the smell of onions and cooking burgers hung lazily in the air mingling with the echoes of conversation. The only thing that was missing was the smell of cigarette smoke that used to be the common scent that completed the effect of bar the bar world.I wasn't there five minutes when a cute blonde walked. .. how could I possibly be sexually attracted to another guy, even if it was my wife somewhere deep inside? I frowned as those thoughts coursed through my head, realizing that one major reason that I could be interested was that for the moment, I was not a guy. I was a red blooded American female, the only male part of me was deep within my brain.Slowly he began to reach toward my new breasts, I pushed his hand back and repeated my earlier question. "How does this Zulo thing work?" Trying to.
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