It’s the man’s favorite tune for his concrete jungle and chipped iron cells… torturing souls to bitter bleak madness.Warm hands ease legs apart ...nd warmer mouth pulls flaccid meat to hardened life. I twitch at the touch, so unfamiliar, so unrepentant.Too much.Too soon.Blackened soul forgets meaning of intimacy.I yank at the cuffs. Growl. Reactions taken to mean one thing when really, they mean the tragic other.The flavors are just too similar. The sugared need too great.So I’m dragged further. "Remember" dad warned as they got in, "No wild parties and don't forget to lock up at night"We stood waving as the taxi went down the long driveway, well at least I was waving with one hand, the other being up underneath the back of my sister's short skirt stroking her lovely little bottom through the gossamer thin material of her panties,With one last wave we closed the door and she turned to face me leaning back against the door,"Why have we still got our clothes on?" Why indeed?" I laughed. More

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