Working hands, we both have working hands. We’ve both earned every scar, every callous for the sake of our craft. My hands have long lost anything f...minine about them, but I’m strangely content by that – these hands can craft dreams out of metal and stones. “Hi baby,” he whispered in my ear as he rubbed my shoulder. “Productive night?” He’s stopped asking whether it was a long night long ago. Sometimes, for me, nights are never long enough. “Yes,” I mumbled back, and continued to enjoy his. I asked her out for a date after our first final was done and much to my happiness she accepted. For the rest of the school year Michelle and I spent a lot of time together. One time after a date I had asked her if she wanted to have sex, she told me that she wanted to wait a while longer but that she would be willing to give me either a hand job or a blow job. I took her up on the blow job and after about ten minutes shot a load of my spunk down her throat. I found out that Michelle was going. More

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