‘No hon’, only men can be warlocks. Women are the witches,’ Antoine offered, grabbing the remainder of his smashed English muffin and stuffing a ten dollar bill inside Janice’s exposed bra. ‘Adios, Janice.’ He accentuated his farewell by slowly spinning Inez away from the booth and into a hustle figure to the first strains of Yvonne Elliman’s ‘If I Can’t Have You.’ Wrapped in Antoine’s arms, Inez had a 20-second fantasy of their own version of Saturday night fever that made her body tremble. He noticed and held her tighter as they headed out of the diner and into the urban humidity. Kissing me would make it better, she desired to confess to him. He pulled her into his body, into his stiffness, and held her there. Her knees buckled suddenly, but he provided all the support she needed. Dragging her backward, tango style, toward a concrete wall of a bank that was going out of business, he pondered how easy it might be to make a quick deposit. A no-brainer, he thought as he smothered. We knew that we had many hours before our parents returned, we knew that Carrie's official deflowering — the mental, not the physical — would shortly take place, but we wanted to savor it. My last emptying of my balls had been just a few hours earlier; I had enough new cum to fuck her properly, but there was no rush. My hands caressed her tits, again as if we were at the movies. Like a new couple, my hands stayed outside her sweater for the time being.My friend, my lover, my fuck-mate put her hand on my crotch and rubbed gently. She wasn't trying to make me hard, for I already had attained that condition. No, she was just letting me know that she was there for me and would stay there until we were both fully sated. She slid down and placed her head where her hand had been, kissing my raging erection through my jeans. My hand feathered her tits; she may not even have felt it. When I saw her eyes close, I shut my own, though each of us continued to gently fondle the other.I moved.
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