I guess part of her issue of complaining about me was embedded in the fact that she was worried about whether she’d done a good job raising me.Well,... as grandma said, “she’s not shooting up d**gs or selling herself so you did a good job.”I smiled at the memory.For a few minutes, we drank in silence then Jacob mused. “To be honest, it’s sad that I don’t know more about you, Layla. We’ve been living beside each other for six years. I could’ve been more...present.”I glanced at him and found his. “Go ahead so I can put that towel in with the other things.”Emily herself was dressed for tennis in a yellow waist length button up sleeveless top and a matching short tennis skirt over regular bikini underwear. She never wore tennis bloomers any more they were uncomfortable and she only played with her female friends and on her backyard court. As she almost never came into the den with her tennis clothes on she gave no thought to the fact that when she sat on the couch in that skirt it rode up. I got there just as she pulled up in her little black Jimmy. We introduced ourselves and went in to have a drink and talk. She was a stunning brunette about 5'3" long hair wearing a tight fitting little black fuck me skirt. We go to the bar and sit down when I notice she is wearing thigh high stocking which I love. We sit and talk for about 20 minutes and she excuses herself to the bathroom. Which later I found out it was to call her husband and let him know she found a guy. She returns and I. I'm still me, I'm Kip, and I'm a man. I'm still a man."You look different too," I say. "How do you feel?" I feel great! And I'm hungry. And I'm horny as all fuck. And you lookgood."He's practically drooling. He must be full of testosterone and isbasically a caveman right now.He reaches out, grabs my shoulders, and pushes my back against the wall."Stop!" I say, my voice cracking into a high pitched girl's voice."Can't help it," he says. "I'm horny and you look too good."He grabs my thin wrists.