. . and by that I mean straight fellow males. Tall, broad-shouldered and full of bonhomie, what wasn’t there to like?Yes, he was one of those lucky souls admired by men and women alike. Everyone wanted to be seen in his company.Well, everyone apart from one specific wicked witch of a bitch.It was possible that Daddy was entertaining complete strangers; he could do that effortlessly, even in a completely new environment. I reckoned he probably knew this audience though. He was after all in the nearest boozer to his new digs: a delightful penthouse-like pad “loaned” to him by a buddy in the wake of Mother’s betrayal.Under-dressed and rain-splattered, my entry into the bar caused some disruption. Every male eye in the barroom must have been on me and my slightly damp T-shirt. I felt somewhat conspicuous and was glad Daddy greeted me as a friend rather than a daughter; that made me feel like a saucy young tart, possibly one of the hired variety. And it made me feel good too.No, it made. He kept wanting to finger her or eat her out, but she was scared she would smell or he would be grossed out. She'd let him rub her between her legs over her clothes; God, it felt good.Ryan was getting frustrated sexually, mainly because he felt everyone else was doing it. He knew Jen wanted to take things slow, but his friends were on him all the time, saying shit like, "Maybe she's gettin' it from some other guy," and "Maybe she's a dyke," or the worst, "Maybe she just doesn't like you." He didn't know why his sex life (or lack of it) was of so much concern to them. When he'd mentioned this point to them, they'd been defensive, saying they only wanted to help.She was getting so beautiful, which she always was of course. Her chest was getting huge, and he'd graduated from being able to touch them to being able to kiss them. Sex ruled his every waking thought. When was she going to let him, how good would he be, what would it feel like, how often would they do it? Sometimes in class.
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