That daily routine changed in our final school year. She was now eighteen and as I said, was strikingly beautiful. Something had changed at home for h...r: her father had to spend a year in the middle east and her parents both went, leaving her to lodge with an aunt who lived even closer to my house, only two roads away. Now her parents were not picking her up from school, she and I walked to and from school together. My delight could hardly be hidden: I was walking the prettiest girl to and from. I didn't have a hard-on, but one was well on its way. She had to feel the thickening pressed against her ass as I reached up and over from behind. If we'd been playing basketball, I would've been called for over the back. As it was, I was pushing past some mugs to finger the sugar bowl."There you go," I set it down in front of her. "The sugar bowl welcomes you as a liberator. Otherwise it lives way up there. Because my mornings are always dark and bitter."I lost control of my actions. I wrapped. More

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