I didn’t mean to be out there in the dark, drunk, pasting up giant sheets of the apple-titted lady out of order. I told this story to the girl in the passenger seat of my Honda. She wasn’t impressed. She seemed more interested in the content of the billboard, and not interested in me at all.

When Mark was ten, one of his gifts under the tree was the outrageously hyped and highly anticipated video game sequel he and his best friend Spencer had been begging, pleading, whining, and angling for since Halloween. Dutifully, and not without pleasure, he ripped open his remaining gifts and watched as his sister and parents opened theirs, but as soon as the first acceptable moment presented itself, he ran to his room, shut the door, eased the new game into the mouth of his Nintendo, and didn’t reappear until his mother’s fifth and “final” call for lunch.

After the haircut—and largely due to a sexual drought that was a result of it—I began a strict regimen of masturbation. But I added a twist. In order to make the act feel more realistic, I started picking out imaginary girlfriends and trying to remain faithful to them. This involved thinking exclusively about one girl while flogging it. Sometimes when the thought of another woman would slip into my mind, a sense of guilt, dishonor and melancholy would follow my orgasm. I didn’t want to be the type of guy with a terrible haircut who cheats on his imaginary girlfriends. 

Claude and I used to work together back on the resort. Boy, we had some crazy times there. Lots of wild nights, partying with the tourists. I know he met you during one such night. 

You know what I love most about swimming?  How perky my breasts get.  All round and full and buoyant.  Gorgeous, really!  And floating right up there where they should be.