Once we’re off the phone, I stretch out longways across the foot of my parents’ bed. The afghan is rough against my cheek but at least my head is no longer pounding. Never again, I tell myself, even as I’m wondering what other bars are open late this time of the year. When I get back to Richmond, I should take Timothy out for a drink. Alcohol makes me horny as s**t, and the thought of both of us crammed into my Mustang getting hot and heavy is enough to bring a smile to my face. I wouldn’t even want to wait until we got home, just pull into the first free spot we found along one of the streets in downtown’s Fan district, crawl into the passenger seat with my pants unzipped, and sit his plump ass down on my hard c**k. I’d have to disable the airbag before we go out, though—God, if he hit th
