Well at least I did until I began to suspect. . . and my suspicions began with that burning sensation I had when I peed. Something just wasnt right, I could feel it. And it was time to confront the culprit.

K was sitting at the table in the kitchen, the Sunday paper hiding her face to me. With one hand she blindly reached for a piece of sliced fruit from a bowl on the edge of the table never putting down the paper or stopping to look at the food in front of her.

She was so hot that my heart skipped a beat as I studied her, watching her pop grapes into her mouth, one right after the other, never wavering from the front-page story which had totally consumed her attention. Wearing nothing but a tank top (white of course) and a pair of matching bikini briefs, she sat with one knee bent, her foot resting on the very edge of the chair, her glasses slipping to the end of her nose, her Shane-like hair all mussed and wild.

As I leaned against the wall, watching, I was also scratching. Not only did it hurt to pee but I was developing some kind of rash down there. Earlier that morning, I looked for flees thinking that ***** dog of mine was sleeping too close but no other signs of life seemed to exist in the thick hairs south of my navel.. Slightly distracted by the need to knead, I thought that perhaps I should schedule that dreaded appointment with Ria the Ripper, my Brazilian bikini wax girl. But that thought quickly vanished as I heard Ks chair scratch along the tile floor as she got up to grab some OJ.

Hey sleepy head, good morning, she said as she walked towards me smiling wickedly. You know what day it is dont you? When she got close enough to kiss me, she did and I could taste grapes and bananas on her tongue as hers brushed over mine.

Once again my heart skipped a beat, not only because that girl is so ***** hot in my eyes, but because I could feel my heart break just a little as I knew what I had to do.