There was even a place that had been a crackhouse.Still, there were enough places that were kept up. The place my parents raised me was one of them. T...he shrubs were trimmed, the leaves were raked, and the walls were painted. Momma even had a small flower garden; though the cold weather had killed it.Poppa was still at the shop, but both Momma and my brother were home; I would have heard about it if I didn't invite Stacy inside to introduce her to everyone. She didn't need to be anywhere and. I looked at her, she’s really whore, in her jeans and t-shirt. “Sweet mom, I want some money to buy books and collage stuff” I begged her. As a mom she knew I was lying so she asked me: “What else you want to buy?” “Oh mom! I want to buy a new digital camera too.” Then she said rebuking: “You can get all what you want from our stores.” ” Oh no mom, the one I want is not at our stores.” I said begging. Then she went up and came down after a while giving me more than I wanted actually.I jumped. Write a book, adopt orphaned animals, anything to give your life some purpose for Chrissakes!’ I have often thought that those words may have started it all. At any rate, I seldomsaw Julie after that night. She finished her degree in journalism at Emory University, and then moved to New York. Some time later we heard that she was an assistant editor at Look magazine. CHAPTER 4 Over the next eight years I worked in one of the Carson banks, eventually becoming Vice-President. Diane and I lived. I was on the work bench with weights over my head. Rupali was marking the weights for safety. I suddenly felt hand on my cock rubbing it gently.I almost lost the weights but controlled it. I looked up to see that Rupali had quit on the weights and was concentrating on my now soft cock. “ I want to see how does this Iron work.” She said. I was in a dangerous positon. Rupali knew that and soon helped me put the bar back on the rack overhead but not before snaking hand her through the leg openings.