Once we got home, the phone rang, messages had to be culled through, the neighbor would stop by with some complaint, the mail, who knows what. Regardless, Amanda, as I said, had tempted me too often with similar conceptual ideas that just never saw the light of day. Hence, for some time now I rarely permitted myself to get my hopes, much less my cock, up. ‘Yeah, sweetie,’ I whispered softly to her, lightly caressing her thigh, pulling her tightly to me, ‘that sounds scrumptious. I can’t wait. You know me: always up for a blowjob!’ We opened the front door, threw down the bags, stripped on the way upstairs, and hopped into the shower, where we fondled each other lasciviously. She went to her dressing table to do whatever it is women do at their dressing tables. I combed my balding pate and put on a little deodorant and even some aftershave. (You see, I was still hoping it would happen this time.) When I walked into the bedroom, Amanda was under the covers with a towel wrapped around. She missed her mom, and felt so uncomfortable in her aunt’s house even though she had spent so much time growing up there. Her life took a turn for the worst. She started dating guys who left something to be desired in the romance department. She got involved with drugs that no sixteen year old should even know exist. She was in an abusive relationship that seemed as if it was a deep, black hole that had no escape. She kept her grades up in school while maintaining an image of schoolgirl, athlete, homecoming queen, and good friend. She led an exhausting double life for a long time. She couldn’t handle the strict rules of her aunt’s house, so she moved in with her dad and his girlfriend for the first time in her life. Rules were nonexistent, and parenting didn’t exist. She came and went as she pleased, and never had to explain herself. She would come in at night, walk past her father and ‘stepmother’ sitting in her living room, and pass out in her bedroom — if she came home at all. .
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