Suze sat on the opposite side of the kitchen table from me. I hesitated. It felt like her anti-hangover remedy was going to stay down. "We have a prob...em," she said."Oh fuck! Don't tell me you're pregnant." That would be rich. Lose your job, get drunk, fuck your girlfriend's best friend, and end up a deadbeat dad, all before noon on Valentine's Day." I stared at her. Was she bitter? She certainly didn't object to fucking her best friend's boyfriend last night. Did she? "Not even thinking about. Still, we each had our fantasies, and from time to time, would use them to enhance an evenings sexual pleasures by simply talking about them. For example, my wife would set the bedroom up with candles and scents, lead me blindfolded to the bed, and would begin to massage me with oils until I was good and aroused, then as she slowly masturbated me, she would describe, in exquisite detail, one of her sexual fantasies. The visual image of her being pleasured by someone else was enough to bring me. More

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