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What thehell; it's only one night. If it doesn't work, no harm, no foul; I'lljust go back to being Miss Understated-Hard-To-Get-Brunette.It was my turn to drive. (Actually, I try to make every turn my turn todrive. Cindy tends to overdo when guys start buying her drinks. It simplywould not do for us to get pulled over by the police on our way home.)Bless her heart; for once, my partner-in-crime was waiting outside theentrance to her building when I pulled up. She slipped into the passengerseat. My Aunty's bright emerald eyes gazed down sternly at me, and she ranher fingers through my silky, shoulder-length blonde hair. She frownedand demanded, "When did you last get your hair cut, Peter? It's verylong. Too long." I had it cut just last year," I cheekily replied, ignoring her whenshe reminded me to call her 'Ma'am.' She was so old-fashioned for suchan attractive young mother.With a disgusted shake of her head, Aunty snidely informed me, "Here inWillowtree, decent young men normally. Except her face wasn’t up there anymore. It was right there, next to my little buddy. I could feel her breathing on it.“It is bigger than the last time I saw it,” she sighed.I wanted to laugh. My body even tried to laugh, but that would have required that some of my muscles relax, and every muscle in my body was just as rigid as my cock was.“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.She reached for it. The same hand I had roughed in on my easel earlier that night gripped my penis and pulled it downward,. As they looked over at her, Barbara was pushing and shoving her husband, calling for him to wake up, first quietly, but then louder. Finally, she pushed a little too hard and he fell out of the lawn chair to the grass, to start snoring curled up on the ground. “Asshole!” she said loudly.Tom caught Bob’s eye and the two men went over to Barbara, standing over her husband, furious. “Can we help?”“The god damned son of a bitch! I ought to let him rot here!”“Maybe he can rot in your yard if we can.
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