The man's right index finger rested on the boy's left arm, a butterfly touch, the boy's doing, not the man's, accidental the boy thought, but then he ...hought too that there are no accidents. It would take all his strength, more strength than he thought he could muster, yet not nearly the strength he actually had, to pull away from that touch. He couldn't ... didn't want to ... didn't.The boy stepped forward.He stood now between the man's widespread legs, his sandaled feet a sharp contrast on. You tell me that this is OK, and that you wanted, and now you NEED this.I reply that it's not right, and you whisper that you love me and that even at 18; you're still my baby girl. You want to show me how much you want and need me. I feel your hands on my thighs, and they rub my muscles, and your nails drag across my skin. You continue to massage me, and I relent, I place my hand on your head as you lay it in my lap, as I feel your fingertips gently begin to play with my hardening cock.Your. More

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