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In the end, the time when I received a letter posted in Mexico. There was no return address. I threw it into the fire so I would not pore over it, then spent stupid weeks trying to find significance in a book she had given me not long before: Wilde’s De profundis. So laugh, why don’t you? Why not? Beckett was right: Nothing is funnier than unhappiness. * * * What happened? Why did it end? I don’t know. Maybe I was too intense, perhaps I wanted a commitment for which Jane was not ready. Perhaps I smothered us, turning adventure into domesticity. Perhaps, maybe I was too compliant, too loyal. I was there for Jane, always. Too easy. I don’t know. I still don’t know. * * * As it happens we met once again, many years later. Coming out of the coffee bar in the railway station with a beaker of coffee to go, I bumped into Jane. Heading for the same train. With half an hour to her stop, we sat facing each other over the narrow table, knees touching briefly, pulling apart, and then returning. Getting braver, he traced his hand down to her waist and slowly began to pull her dress upwards. Soon it exposed her panties to him, and with still no reluctance evident, he brushed his thumb over her secret area. It was damp.Justin stood up and unbuttoned his jeans. In his youthful horniness, he was already hard. He took a pillow and put it beneath her hips, and then rubbed Bessie's slit through her panties. She moaned in pleasure, and he slipped the fabric aside to insert a finger into her hole, darting it in and out quickly. She was really tight, but also quite wet."Put a condom on, please." Bessie begged.'Of course!'He pulled one of the condoms from his pocket, tore open the wrapper and slipped it over his hard manhood putting a slight tear in the tip. Bessie was so drunk that she didn't notice the defect. All she knew was that there was condom on Justin's cock.Justin wasted no time, and slid carefully but quickly into Bessie's slick passage. He pistoned his tool in and out.
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