That one stuck. Unfortunately, it stuck all the way to his second cigarette. I sighed and said, “Let’s go inside.” Again, he made a little smirk. A hot smirk, though. “I’m cold,” I said by way of explanation. He just pulled out his key and walked inside while I followed. Our discussion continued into his studio, where I sat on his bed and he sat at his desk, as per usual. He fiddled with his phone, finding music to play while we talked (that should have been my hint he knew what I was here for). Finally, the alcohol made me brave and I sighed, “I didn’t really come here to talk about the meaning of life.” “That’s a shame; I’m really good at it.” He was, but we weren’t together anymore. He’d made that clear. I had just gotten out of the woods and I didn’t want to open that door in my head again. He walked over to sit on the bed next to me and began wordlessly unlacing his boots. His stupid fucking boots I loved so much. I watched his fingers deftly untie them; I sighed, God I loved. As she took her first sip of her second drink, she casually rested her free hand on Bradley's thigh. Bradley's cock began to stir. After a couple sips, that hand had moved to Bradley's upper thigh. Now his cock began to grow. And as she polished off the drink, that hand moved right into his crotch. Bradley's cock was now rock hard. Bradley scooted in so the combination of the tablecloth and his napkin would shield what Trina was doing. Trina knew she was driving him crazy - and she loved it. Bradley was astounded at the way Trina could fondle him while still conversing with the others at the table. All he could manage was the occasional "uh-huh" or "hmm," since his concentration was certainly not at its best. His cock was pressed up against her hand, twitching as she alternately grasped it and released. He just picked at his dessert, a vanilla something or other. The band returned from its break, and began to play a hip-hop song. The other couples at the table got up to dance. "Um,.
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