I could see the outline of his beard, just a hint of shadow. Great chest. He was wearing a golf shirt, and I could see his pecs outlined where they pu...hed and stretched the fabric. Slim waist, blue jeans. And a basket. We were stopped at a light, and he thumbed his dick through his jeans. That sent me over the edge. ‘Sure, OK.’ I looked up at him, and he smiled a victory smile, he had vanquished me. He drove a bit on, then found a deserted lot to pull into. Without a word, he slid the sit back,. The path surface was really too uneven for a wheelchair.Our son Michael had offered to push me. John refused Michael’s help. Michael offered again.“No, Michael,” I had said. “This is something important to John, and to me.”“OK,” Michael had said, “but...”“No buts! I’m doing this,” John had insisted.He had. We had reached this point in our English lane. He had taken my hand and held it as he did every time we sat at this bench.+++Over sixty years ago John had first taken my hand. We had been on. More

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