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“It looks really good in your mouth” I felt his hands on my shoulders, pushing me back… he was easing me to the floor on my back. As I went to my back, it slipped out of my mouth. “I’m giving you a blowjob! Just like she did!” “Yes you are! You’re going to be better than her, wait and see!” He knelt over my face and grabbed a couple pillows from his bed. He slid them under my head, tilting it upward toward his crotch and his incredibly stiff and wet penis. Wet with my spittle. Wet from ME. “Don't breath the smoke,” I warned as the purple cloud drifted down the hallway, growing lighter and lighter as it dispersed through the air. “We need to wait for it to be safe.”Xera nodded, her ears twitching.“Did anyone hear their shouts?”She shook her head. “No one is coming.”“Good,” I sighed. I reached into my pouch and pulled out my thief tools. The various metal instruments were wrapped in felt cloth. No metal touched each other, so nothing rattled. I selected the tools I needed to pick. With a little digging and a lot of head scratching, I finally settled on black rancher slacks, the gold pin stripped shirt I had gotten married in years ago, a bolo tie, my good ostrich boots, a light tan pigskin coat, and a whisky colored Stetson. After a quick shower and shave, I got dressed. Looking at myself in the full length mirror on the bathroom door, I had to grin and shake my head, talk about the sow’s ear trying to be a silk purse. I hadn’t been this dressed up since I couldn’t. Then we moved much further south into the Chelsea area just above Greenwich Village and we were surrounded by longshoremen and mass transportation workers raising their little broods with their only interest in cheap beer and the sports-line. We were sort of outsiders because my mom had no man domiciled in the apartment and she spoke with a high-class tone due to being raised in a convent by French sisters with very strict rules on grammar and etiquette. My sister and I spoke in the "lingua.
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