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Hot Pizza
by Solo Polyphony (address withheld)

***

Pizza delivery gal gets a big tip. (M+/F, exh, gb)

***

My wife, Deborah, often tells me "bedtime stories" of 
her sexual adventures. Some of them I know are true, 
either because I was there, or because she has 
corroborative evidence. Some of them, I'm sure, are 
fictional. Others, I'm just not sure about. 

This story is one I'm not sure about. It's set back 
before we were married, when we were in college. We 
went to different schools, a couple hundred miles 
apart, so I couldn't really keep tabs on her (or visa-
versa, for that matter). She did deliver pizzas on a 
bike for a while, so the story she tells could have 
happened, but I don't have any solid evidence one way 
or the other. I'm inclined to suspect that she at least 
partly made it up for my entertainment. I suspect Deb 
would have handled this situation a lot better in real 
life. 

This is the story as Deb tells it (albeit, with my 
title). 

Hot Pizza 

It had been a long day. It seemed like everybody in 
town was having a party to celebrate the beginning of 
spring break. The only thing that saved me from utter 
exhaustion was that most of the frat types were in 
Florida already, so I just had to deal with the ones 
who couldn't afford the trip. I'd been pedalling all 
over town, dropping off half a dozen with pepperoni 
here, ten with everything there, and seven mushroom and 
olive everywhere else (Ick. I hate mushrooms and 
olives). 

By the time I got to the last delivery before my shift 
ended, I was beat. I was also freezing, since it was 
one of those god-awful spring days that make you think 
the seasons have gone back to winter to try again. When 
I saw it was clouding up, I was really pissed. 

Sure enough, halfway up the hill to Frat Row, the rain 
started. It didn't just drizzle, it poured buckets. If 
it was raining cats and dogs, they must have been lions 
and dire wolves. The pizzas were warm and dry in their 
insulated bag, but I was soaked and shivering by the 
time I got to the house that had ordered them. I must 
have been quite a sight with my nipples tight from the 
cold, clearly visible through the thin, white T-shirt 
that Crusty's Pizza insisted was a delivery uniform. 

I rang the bell, and stood there dripping on the mat 
until someone opened it. 

"Jesus, you're wet!" was the first thing he said. 
"C'mon in and dry off a bit while I find some money. 
How much are they?" 

"Thirty-seven fifty," I told him stepping inside. "Any 
chance you could spare me a towel?" 

"No problem. Be right back." 

He disappeared down the hall, and came back a couple of 
minutes later with two twenties, a big, fluffy bath 
towel, and a can of beer. He handed me the money and 
towel, and I handed him the pizzas. The usual juggling 
act wasn't made any easier by the fact that he had 
opened the beer, and the inevitable happened. We missed 
the handoff on the towel, and it started to fall. We 
both reached to catch it, and he tipped the beer a 
little too far. I wound up with the better part of a 
can of Budweiser poured over my head. I don't like beer 
to begin with, and I certainly don't like it dripping 
down my face and the back of my neck. 

I screamed at him. This last frustration was the 
absolute last straw, and I told him exactly what sort 
of clumsy, brain-damaged idiot I thought he was. He 
took it calmly and waited for me to run down. When I 
ran out of things to call him, he just said, "Would you 
take some of that back if I offered to run your clothes 
through the washer while you take a shower?" 

What can you say to an offer like that except yes? I 
couldn't think of any other way to answer him. I 
borrowed the phone to call my boss and tell him I was 
going straight home, and that I'd bring in the last 
delivery's money when I came in the next day, and then 
followed my host down the hall to the visitor's 
bathroom. 

"Just dump your clothes outside the door, and I'll run 
'em downstairs," he said. "When they're dry, I'll hook 
'em on the outside doorknob." 

Something about that didn't sound quite right, but, it 
wasn't until I had stripped, handed my clothes out to 
him from behind the door, locked the door, and gotten 
under the water, that I realized what it was. Did he 
really expect me to stay in here for an hour and a 
half? I shrugged to myself, figuring I'd worry about it 
after the shower. 

The bathroom was the typical institutional type, with 
two open toilet stalls and a single shower stall 
without a curtain on the right, and a couple of sinks 
on the left wall, under the usual huge mirror. 
Depressing as hell, but the way I was feeling, I 
wouldn't have cared if it had been a bucket to dump 
over my head, as long as it was HOT! 

I just luxuriated under the water for a long couple of 
minutes, then began to rinse the beer out of my hair. 
By the time my hair was clean, the hot water had begun 
to ease my mood. I saw a motion out of the corner of my 
eye, but when I looked around, the only things there 
were the sinks and the mirror above them. 

I started soaping my body when my attention was 
distracted by another movement. This time I was looking 
in the right direction, and I saw that something was 
moving behind the mirror! I realized the frat boys had 
installed a one-way mirror that wasn't quite as one-way 
as they had hoped. 

My first impulse was to dive for cover, but I realized 
there really wasn't any. My second impulse was to turn 
my back, but I really couldn't see any advantage to me 
in forcing them to look at my butt instead of my tits 
and pussy. I finally decided to go with my third 
impulse and give them a bit of a show. To tell the 
truth, the thought of a bunch of strangers watching me 
in the shower was turning me on. 

Mind you, I wasn't about to go out of my way for their 
thrills, but I did spend more time than I usually do 
soaping my pussy and tits, and I did "accidentally" 
drop the soap once, giving them a good rear view when I 
bent over to pick it up. All in all, it was one of the 
nicer showers I'd had, what with all the free hot water 
I wanted -- not to mention the cheap thrills for one 
and all -- so I was feeling pretty good when I decided 
I'd had enough. I turned off the water and grabbed the 
towel that had started the whole mess. 

I wasn't sure how long I'd been in the shower, so I 
figured there was at least a chance that my clothes 
would be dry, so I wrapped the towel around myself and 
stuck my head out the door to check. I wasn't 
particularly surprised that there weren't any clothes 
there. My host was, however, and the bulge in his pants 
showed that he, at least, hadn't gotten his rocks off 
watching me. 

"I just put your stuff in the dryer," he said. "You 
wanna hang out in there 'til it's ready, or do you 
wanna come upstairs and see if we can find you a robe 
or something while you wait?" 

I'm not an idiot, so I figured he had more in mind than 
just finding me a robe, but the prospect wasn't that 
dismal. Actually, the idea was sounding more and more 
attractive the more I thought about it. Men are more 
fun than vibrators, after all, and either one is better 
than sitting around a wet bathroom with no clothes and 
nothing to do. 

With that in mind, I took another look at him. He was 
medium height, kind of weedy looking, although not 
quite to the level of scrawny. He had dark, straight 
hair and glasses. Not my idea of a dream stud, but 
quite acceptable, especially given that the glasses 
were reasonably fashionable, and not held together with 
electrical tape. 

"Upstairs, you said?" 

He pointed down the hall behind me. "First door on the 
left at the top." As I started up the stairs in front 
of him, he added "I'm Mark, by the way." 

Thinking fast, I told him my name was Betty. I didn't 
think it was likely, but just in case he decided to try 
to track me down later, I didn't want to make it easy 
for him. Betty was actually the name of the TA who 
taught my Calculus class. She had just handed back a 
test that day, and I was none to pleased with my D. I 
entertained a brief fantasy of Mark calling every Betty 
in the campus phone book, and bugging her, preferably 
at 3 a.m. 

I reached the top of the stairs and opened the door on 
the left. "Would you get the light?" Mark said. "It's 
on a string in the middle of the room." I took a couple 
of steps forward, waving my arms to find the string. 
Just as I found it, I heard the door close behind me. I 
pulled the string, and found myself in (no surprise) a 
bedroom. The surprise was in the number of people in 
the room. In addition to Mark, there were five other 
guys. Standing around, leaning against the walls. Stark 
naked. Looking at me dressed in nothing but a towel. 

I whirled around to confront Mark, nearly losing my 
towel in the process. "What the fuck do you think 
you're doing?" I demanded, a rather stupid question, 
especially as he was pulling his shirt off even as I 
spoke. 

"Well," Mark replied calmly, "I did say that if you 
came upstairs, we'd see what we could find for you to 
wear." He started to pull off his pants. "Plural, you 
know," he added. 

"So what you're saying is that if I, uh, let all six of 
you fuck me, you'll loan me something to wear until my 
clothes are dry? Doesn't sound like much of a deal to 
me." 

"Actually no," said one of the guys behind me. "What 
he's saying is that by the time we finish fucking you, 
your clothes will be dry, and we'll get them for you." 

"Sex, clothes. No sex, no clothes," chimed in another 
one. "That sound like a better deal?" 

At this point, I figured I had three choices: I could 
make a break for it, and even if I got out the door, 
what would I do then? Have you ever tried to ride a 
bike dressed in nothing but a bath towel? Me neither, 
and I didn't really want to try it. I could try and 
talk my way out of it, with roughly the same chance of 
success as winning the lottery two weeks in a row. Or I 
could, as the saying goes, cooperate with the 
inevitable, and file rape charges later. I took a quick 
look around the room at the six of them, and thought 
about how long it had been since I had last had sex. 
"Hell," I thought, "I might even enjoy it, if I'm 
lucky." 

"I guess you've got a deal," I said, reluctantly. All 
six of them started forward. I hastily continued, "On 
one condition. You guys want a gang-bang. That I can 
handle, I guess, but I'm not about to take you all on 
at once. You guys want to do this, you do it one at a 
time, and in order of dick size. If I'm going to take 
you all, I need some warm-up before I get to the big 
ones." I glanced at Mark. "That'd make you first, you 
bastard," I added as I dropped the towel. 

He blushed. I'd never seen a guy blush all the way from 
his head to his nuts. It's quite a sight. I smiled to 
myself when his buddies chuckled. 

"She's got your number, Mark," one of them said. "If 
that's the way she wants it, I can live with it." 

"OK, OK, you pricks. If that's it, that's it. Just 
remember who isn't gonna be getting sloppy seconds," 
Mark replied. Turning to me, he said "Get on your knees 
next to the bed, bend over, and lean your arms on it." 

I started to comply, and then had a nasty thought. I 
turned to look at him, and past him to the rest of 
them. "Make sure you aim right. Don't let your habits 
get the best of you, because the first guy who tries to 
put his cock in my ass is going to have it ripped off." 
I was pleased to see a couple of their faces take on a 
very thoughtful look. 

I got into the position Mark had demanded, and then had 
to wait while someone ran downstairs for a padded 
footstool, since in that position my pussy was several 
inches too low for them to get at. When he returned, I 
knelt on the stool, and Mark approached me again. 

"That's better," I heard him say, just before I was 
rammed forward as he thrust all the way into me in one 
stroke. Fortunately for me, his prick was not only 
short, no more than five inches, but was unusually 
skinny as well. He didn't even stretch me noticeably. 

This is not a position that gives me much pleasure 
under the best of circumstances, and Mark had neither 
the interest or the ability to maximize what little 
potential it offered. I was tempted to sneak my hand 
back and give my clit a little stimulation, but decided 
I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction, even if it 
would have made me more comfortable. As he thrust in 
and out, I was grateful that the activity in the shower 
had gotten me a little lubricated, and that his cock 
was as skinny as it was. A little larger, or a little 
less lubrication, and I would have been rubbed raw. As 
it was, I merely hoped that his lack of subtlety 
signalled an equal lack of experience, and therefore a 
quick cum. 

He fucked me hard and fast, while I concentrated on 
moving enough to make it look like I was involved, 
without moving enough to actually help him. My prayers 
were answered, as it wasn't long at all before I felt 
his cum spurting into me. As soon as he came, I started 
to feel a little bit guilty. He'd been nice enough 
before he pulled his little trick. He and I probably 
would even have had a good time if things had gone as I 
had expected they would when we came upstairs. 

Mark pulled out of my cunt, and I felt his cum begin to 
drip out, and run down my leg. I heard the second guy 
take his place behind me, and decided that feeling 
guilty was stupid. Mark deserved to lose whatever 
pleasure he didn't get for what he had done. "Your 
loss, buddy," I thought to myself as cock number two 
pressed against the entrance to my hole. 

This one was noticeably larger than Mark's, but its 
owner was rather more considerate. He teased me a bit, 
rubbing the tip up and down the length of my slit, 
lubricating it with Mark's cum, before he pushed slowly 
into me. As he began moving in and out with long, slow 
strokes, I reached down and started to rub myself. 
Number Two (shades of the Village) was much better than 
Mark had been, and giving myself some stimulation 
didn't hurt any either, so I was almost disappointed 
when he lurched forward, firing his hot juices deep 
into me. 

Number Three was almost a gentleman. He started by 
running his hands up and down my back for a moment, 
easing the strain of staying on my hands and knees. He 
then reached around me, caressed my breasts, and 
whispered in my ear, "I hope you're protected." 

"You might have mentioned that thought a little 
sooner," I whispered back. "If it will make you feel 
any better, though, yes, I am." 

"Sorry. I didn't think of it until I saw what was 
running down your leg." He chuckled then, as he 
straightened up and slid his hard shaft into me. "Thank 
heaven for Ortho Pharmaceuticals," he added. I could 
only agree. 

I started to reach for my clit again, and found he had 
beaten me to it. I sighed in mounting pleasure as he 
synchronized the strokes of his cock with the rubbing 
of his finger. Making the most of the situation, I 
matched his motion, giving him the best fuck I could 
under the circumstances. Unfortunately, I gave him a 
better fuck than I should have. I was just beginning to 
think I might cum, when he gasped "Oh, yes, Baby, YES," 
and blew his wad. 

I didn't get the chance to see if he'd stick around to 
help me cum, as Number Four elbowed him out of the way 
and impaled me with the largest cock yet. From his 
first vicious thrust, I knew he was out to make up for 
Number Three's relative consideration. The only thing 
that kept me from screaming in pain was the three loads 
of cum that had already been deposited in my pussy, 
keeping me well lubricated. He was thrusting so hard 
that my head was just about banging into the wall on 
the far side of the bed. "Hey, slow down," I called 
back to him. "I'm not going anywhere. Take your time." 

"Damn right you're not," he said. He added over his 
shoulder, "Hey, Paul, 'ja hear that? She wants me to 
slow down. I guess she likes it or something." He 
slowed down a little, enough that I stopped worrying 
about a concussion, so I let the subject drop. 

"How is she?" the next guy in line asked. 

"Nice and tight," he replied. "Getting kinda squishy, 
though." 

"Better pull out when you cum, then," his buddy said. 
"Don't make it any worse for the rest of us." 

"No prob," Number said, pulled his prick out of me, and 
started jerking it. It was such a relief to have it 
out, that it took a minute for what they had been 
saying to register. 

"Hey!" I yelled, turning my head around as I started to 
say something stupid about not wanting my hair full of 
cum. I was too slow. I got my head turned just in time 
to catch the first long spurt in my face. My sentence 
turned into a sputter as I jerked my head back and 
started rubbing it on the bed-covers to clean off. I 
felt the next couple of spurts hit the back of my head 
and shoulders before the pressure fell off, and he 
finished up dripping onto my butt. 

"Shit! You stupid bastard, why do you think I wanted 
you in order of cock size? I needed that for 
lubrication." 

"Not my problem, Babe," he said with a distinctly self-
satisfied smirk. 
Turning to the next guy in line, he said "She's all 
youerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrk". His involuntary interjection 
was the result of my foot becoming intimately 
acquainted with his nuts. 

I briefly considered following my kick with a break for 
the door, but I knew my chances of getting past the 
rest of them were pretty slim -- and I still didn't 
want to run home naked. I turned to the two guys still 
waiting for their turns. "Either of you two think we're 
making a porn flick here? If you do, you might as well 
step up to where I can reach you, and we'll save a 
little time." They both looked at their buddy moaning 
on the floor, and shook their heads. "OK then. Let's 
get on with it, and get it over with." 

"That's hardly romantic," Mark said. 

"You're a fine one to talk. If you think this is a 
romantic situation, you must have gone to reform school 
instead of high school." I turned to the next guy in 
line. "Ready?" At his nod, I resumed my position 
against the bed. 

Not surprisingly, he seemed a bit nervous as he 
approached me, but once he got his cock into me without 
getting kicked, he seemed to relax. I was starting to 
get a bit sore from the stretching, and this guy's cock 
wasn't helping things any. It was definitely the 
biggest one I had ever taken, and I breathed a mental 
sigh of relief when he entered me slowly, and kept his 
strokes slow as well. Again I started rubbing my clit, 
and I was getting into it enough that the pain was 
starting to recede behind the pleasure when he groaned 
and blasted his cum into me. 

As Number Five stepped back, the guys who had already 
had their turns started cheering. 

"Alright, Big Tony!" 

"Give her all of it!" 

"Nail 'er big guy!" 

I looked around to see what all the fuss was about, and 
got my first good look at Big Tony -- or, more 
precisely, at why they called him that. Tony wasn't 
particularly big, maybe 5'10", and 180 pounds, but his 
prick sure was. My first, horrified thought was that he 
had had a baseball bat grafted to his crotch, but a 
longer look didn't reassure me much. It was at least a 
foot long, and a good three inches in diameter. His 
cock was a pretty good match in size for my forearm, 
and the head wasn't noticeably smaller than my fist. My 
unconscious cry of "Holy shit!" was answered by 
laughter from the onlookers, and an apologetic grin 
from Big Tony. He was obviously used to that reaction. 

"You're not gonna back out, are you?" he asked me, and 
I realized that he must be used to women turning him 
down when they saw what he had to offer. I felt sorry 
for him, and wondered if he had ever found one who 
would go all the way with him. I knew that I'd hate 
myself if I disappointed him, given that I was as well 
stretched and lubricated as I'd ever been. 

"Not if you take it slowly," I assured him, trying to 
sound confident, rather than nervous. I felt his cock-
head against the mouth of my pussy, and relaxed the 
muscle as far as possible. He pushed slowly into me, 
and I felt as though his cock was dragging my pussy-
lips so far inside that I wondered if I was going to 
turn outside-in. He got a couple of inches in, and then 
reversed direction, and I thought I was going to turn 
inside-out. 

The second stroke was easier, thanks to the cum smeared 
along the first few inches of his shaft. He proceeded 
that way, pushing in an inch or so further with each 
stroke, until I felt his belly hit my butt. 

"Sonufabitch," Big Tony cried, "I'm all the way in! 
Damn, that feels good!" I was too busy wondering if I 
was going to be ripped in half to respond with anything 
more than a moan, but he didn't seem to care. He 
started stroking in and out, slowly enough at first, 
but then picking up speed as he got more and more 
excited, and I stretched enough to make it possible. 

About then, I discovered something. I'd never gotten 
much clitoral stimulation from the doggy position 
before, but I found that with a big enough cock it 
works just fine -- and Big Tony's was big enough. By 
the time this realization hit me, Big Tony was well 
past thirty-three and a third, and getting close to 
forty-five. I sent up a silent prayer that he'd never 
get to seventy-eight, and abandoned myself to the 
sensation of being stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey. 

The pleasure rapidly swamped the pain, and my moans of 
pain quickly became one continuous moan of pleasure. 
For the second time I found myself mere seconds from 
orgasm, and for the second time I was disappointed, as 
Tony bellowed with the pleasure, dumping the 
frustration of at least ten years of getting nothing 
more than a hand-job -- and an enormous load of cum -- 
into my pussy. 

I was ready to weep with frustration when Tony 
whispered in my ear, "You were almost there, weren't 
you? Don't worry, you've got one more chance. If 
anybody can get you off, it's Zeke." 

I was a little puzzled; I had thought Big Tony was the 
last one waiting for a crack at my crack, but before I 
could say anything, I felt a tongue begin to work on my 
cunt. I stopped thinking; I always do when someone goes 
down on me. Good as it felt, though, something was 
bothering me, and I finally figured out what it was. 
What kind of a frat boy would not only go down on a 
woman in front of his frat mates, but would eat the cum 
they had already left in her? 

I had to see this paragon, so I looked around, and then 
fell off the stool trying to get away. Zeke was a dog; 
a St. Bernard-cross, to be exact! No wonder he hadn't 
cared who was watching him eat cum. I realized that 
part of what had been bothering me was the length and 
flexibility of his tongue, but it had felt so good I 
had done my best to ignore the oddity. 

Mark and Number Four were laughing hysterically; they 
had obviously brought Zeke in while I was absorbed with 
Big Tony. The others were turned on at the sight, they 
all looked disappointed when I pushed Zeke away. 
Between laughs, Mark said, "What do you think you're 
doing? You agreed to fuck us all to get your clothes 
back." 

"Yeah, but he's not one of you," I replied. 

"Sure he is. Zeke's the house mascot. If that doesn't 
make him one of us, I don't know what would." 

"He wasn't here when we made the deal." 

"Nobody said anything about being here. You agreed to 
fuck us all to get your clothes. Zeke's one of us, so 
if you don't fuck him, you don't get your clothes. 
Besides, look at him. He's obviously desperate. If you 
don't fuck him now that he's turned on, we'll have to 
report you to the ASPCA." He started laughing again. 

I'm not stupid enough to be convinced by any of Mark's 
arguments. The truth is, I was almost frustrated enough 
to give Mark a second chance just so I could cum. I was 
grateful to have an alternative. As Mark said, 
"Besides, you liked him well enough before you saw who 
he was." 

I let myself be persuaded, and got back up on the 
stool, reflecting on the appropriateness of the doggy 
position. Seeing me in a position he recognized, Zeke 
came back over to me and started lapping at my cunt 
again. 

I spread my legs a little further apart to give him 
better access, and he took full advantage. His tongue 
slid inside me, wriggling at the walls of my pussy, 
rapidly turning me on again. After a minute or so, he 
stopped licking, and I felt his forepaws on my back. He 
walked forward, and began hunching his spine, trying to 
get his doggy-dick into me. After two unsuccessful 
thrusts that came perilously close to my asshole, I 
reached back and grabbed his cock, guiding it into me. 

Zeke wasn't as big as Tony, but he was bigger than any 
of the other guys, and I was pleased to discover that 
he was big enough to give me the stimulation I needed. 
I was less pleased when I felt his knot slide into me. 
That was enough to make his cock even thicker than Big 
Tony's, and I wasn't sure I could take it. 

Somehow, though, I did. Once inside me, Zeke started a 
frantically fast thrusting that quickly had me clawing 
at the bed-sheets. When he howled and started pumping 
his doggy-cum into me, I felt my cunt clamp down as the 
first throes of my orgasm shook me. The combination of 
my repeated frustration and the sheer depravity of 
doing it with a dog contributed at least as much to the 
mind-wrenching quality of my orgasm as the purely 
physical stimulation of Zeke's big cock. It wasn't 
until well after Zeke was finished that I came down 
enough to turn my untidy sprawl across the bed into a 
seat on the footstool. 

I rested there for a minute, six pairs of eyes 
studiously avoiding mine. (Zeke I didn't count. He was 
in the corner, licking his cock clean as it retreated 
into its sheath.) When I felt steady enough to stand, I 
grabbed the towel I had abandoned on the floor. "I'm 
going to the bathroom to clean up," I announced. "When 
I come out, I expect my clothes to be outside the door 
waiting for me." 

I didn't want to take the time for a full-fledged 
cleanup. I just rinsed the worst of the flows of semen 
from my legs, promising myself a thorough wash when I 
got home. When I left the bathroom, Number Three was 
standing there holding my clothes. 

"I didn't want to just leave them on the floor. That 
didn't seem right, somehow," he said, handing them to 
me, and ignoring the dirty look I gave him. He handed 
me my money belt, adding, "We put in a couple of extra 
bucks for you; to make up for Zeke, and all." 

Somehow I refrained from telling him that Zeke had been 
better than the lot of them. It wasn't quite true, and 
the guy was trying to apologize, so I just mumbled 
thank you, and headed for the front door. 

He followed me down the hall, and as I opened the door, 
he said, "It's still pouring out there. You want me to 
give you a ride home?" 

If I had been reluctant to let Mark know who I was 
before the events of the evening, I certainly wasn't 
about to let any of these guys know where I lived now. 
"No thanks," I said. "I've gotta get my bike home, 
too." 

I righted the bike, started to swing my leg across the 
frame, and stopped with it half raised when my much-
abused crotch gave me a warning twinge. Deciding that I 
wasn't in the mood for the amount of pain riding would 
have entailed, I elected to walk. 

Halfway down the hill, I discovered another reason not 
to ride. The larger part of six loads of cum had done a 
rather good job of soaking the crotch of my jeans. Even 
if I had wanted to ride, I was probably too slippery to 
stay on the seat. 

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 56