I do miss that sometimes. Hearing Paris talk broke through my thoughts. I said, “Hunh?" “My dick is hard," he says breathlessly. “Your dick is ...ard? How did that happen?" I said. I couldn’t really hear what he was saying because he mumbled. I began taking pictures of his drunken state as memories to bring up later. The next few moments were fuzzy. I went from taking pictures of him and rubbing his dick to feeling its true length and how hard it was. “Let me take a picture of it," I asked. . When the thesis was done, I'd start working out again - maybe even withSharon's weights. Little did I know that these changes were all part ofher revenge - ever since we moved into the new house, she'd been lacingmy orange juice with high doses of female hormones and tranquilizers.She didn't drink orange juice herself, so all she had to do was spikethe bottle. But I'm getting ahead of myself.The months rolled by, and Sharon began to get a little too fit for mytaste. I mean, she didn't exactly. More

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