It was very difficult, however, because his mind seemed incapable of processing this event."How are your pants fitting," I asked, with an evil grin on...my face.He looked up at my eyes."Huh?" he mumbled?"Your pants," I said, jutting my jaw at his pants, looking down at his crotch.His hands moved somewhat involuntary to cover the front. In truth, I couldn't see anything - but was sure there was some tensing going on.His hand stopped short of touching himself."You like my panties?" I asked.He said. He was vulnerable.Being exposed was no great comfort to him. The fact his friend took advantage of him, and violated him; angered him immensely.But, Michael struggled to come to grips with who, and what he was, and to regain some normality back in his life.Driving to Buckhead was always a pain in the ass. He lived in Alpharetta and had to take Georgia State Road 400 each day. Predictably, there must have been a pile-up because as he got to Holcomb Bridge Road, traffic was at a stand-still.About. More

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