My neighbor laughs and finishes my sentence and my thoughts. “Yes, it's my cock. And…". I start to stammer again, but recover quickly. "Fantastic,...the photos look great, it makes me curious about the living specimen." "Can happen just like that," my neighbor smiles. My thoughts suddenly go fast. "Coincidentally, I have to go to the bathroom," I say while I get up. I quickly look at the top left corner of the screen. I make a mental note of his e-mailaddress. My neighbor closes the internetpages. So Karen and I would meet two or three times a week and spend a terribly short three-quarters-of-an-hour making love. It was desperately frustrating not to have more time together, but not as frustrating as those times when we were together but had to pretend that nothing had changed between us. Like the times I came over for supper with Karen and Kendall.We had established the habit of getting together once or twice a week, just the three of us, and it seemed imprudent to change that. And. More

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