The skirt was practically nonexistent at this point, with huge gaps that allowed me to see the smooth lines of Megan's gorgeous legs. On her top half ...he had a tight white tank top and a black leather jacket.As she put her stuff into the spare drawer I'd cleared out for her, I lay on the bed and watched her luscious form moving. She was telling me about her affairs of the past week--whenever Megan went home, she got laid. She and I had a completely open relationship, so I didn't feet jealousy. The idea for this story came in a dream, and that was his name in the dream, so I didn’t change it. This is the closest thing to a traditional short story I’ve submitted, and I would really like solid critique on it. Especially, did I do a good job of writing from a man’s point of view? Oh, and I guess I should state this explicitly, based on some so-called ‘feedback’ I’ve gotten on other stories: Everything I write is fiction. **** WHEN I WAS thirty-four years old, I came to the realization. More

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