It had been two months of us being in Europe. We were in France for about six weeks before the fixer moved us to Rome. I was bummed about giving up my job at the art gallery. It kept me sane that first month, but I didn't need it nearly as much anymore. I was so caught up in being between my girlfriend's legs that letting it go didn't matter the way it would have in the beginning.
When the fixer offered us replacement jobs Stacy declined, saying she wanted some time together, just the two of us, to explore Rome. Being the pussy whipped idiot that I was, I just went with it, because that's what I did these days. Think with my dick.
