She looks up and kisses him gently. She stops him and leans back a little. “Wait, do you have one with you?” He nods. “Do I get to come over for...awhile?” he asks. She shakes her head. “Doubtful, but we’ll see.” Then without another word, she reaches down and quickly undoes his belt, unzips his pants and pulls them down. She straddles him, her dress riding up, and starts kissing his neck, getting every part of it. Her warm, gentle tongue runs all over him, giving him so much pleasure. He has to. I simply worshiped her, realized she was light years out of my league, but grateful for the crumbs I was permitted, the way I could try to make her happy by purchasing things for her, by surrendering my lunch money and going without lunches. I was slowly becoming addicted to the notion--and reality--of making sacrifices for her. The only problem was I couldn't talk with anyone about it. She wouldn't give me the time of day, and there was really no one else I could talk to. The loneliness of. More

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