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,...