Confession: I can maybe forget about preparing turkey-lettuce-tomato sandwiches and twelve-grain chips from a plastic bag for lunch. Rather, inside my homey kitchen, I can get face to face with the handsome and young traveler, slip his quivering lower lip into my mouth, between my own lips, and grunt-giggle while holding his hips with both my palms. Of course, I can remove his green T-shirt, suckle his n*****s one by one, cause him to groan and moan in pleasure, and, in time, pull apart the three buttons on his jeans, one by one, and significantly please him with my mouth as I rest on my knees. And yes, I can strip the traveling man out of his hiking gear, turn him around, have him hang onto the kitchen countertop’s edge with his stringent palms and fingers, and spread his bottom with my m
