There was a creak; the wind bending the branches of the trees outside, or the soft step of a foot on an aging floorboard. She slept on, unaware, bare...breasted to the night. In fact, when the soft brush of her bedroom door across her carpet whispered into the air, she still slept on. His cock was hard as soon as he laid his eyes on her, his eyes feasting on her puckered pink nipples and her lush, pouting and temptingly open mouth. He had agonised on the way to her house in his car about how. Callan. And more specifically, a slightly drunk and feeling sorry for himself Callan. His slightly slurred speech explaining the lack of car, even in the middle of the day. My recently napping and now slowly re-booting brain gradually keying into the conversation Callan was having with the girl he’d loved and dated all those years ago.“You know, Jill, sometimes I just feel so very, very tired… like I don’t have the energy or will to go on anymore,” his tired and sad voice told the woman. More

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