I was a broken man when I met Gina. At 53, my body was ravaged by MS, my mind clouded by alcohol and porn addiction. I couldn’t walk, confined to an electric wheelchair, navigating the streets of Portland with a sense of futility. I ended up in the hospital again. That’s where I met Gina. She was a vision of beauty, with her C-cup breasts and petite frame and her long flowing dark brown hair and stunning bright blue eyes,...

It was the summer of 1979, and I was working as a line cook at a major seafood restaurant chain in Aurora, Colorado. The heat was unbearable, the kitchen a sweltering inferno that made the outside seem like a cool breeze in comparison. But the company was even hotter, and it wasn't just the temperature that had me sweating. Lisa, a blonde waitress with an hourglass figure, caught my eye from the moment she started working...