“I'm so bored.”“Aren't we all,” I muttered, glancing over at her. When did she get such sleek legs? I know she was only eighteen, but... that ...fetching midriff. I could see her bellybutton. She thrust her bare feet in the air. Her toenails were all gleaming pink. She had spent the morning painting them. I had hoped it would occupy her longer.“Let's go to the store,” she said. “We're running low on stuff.”“I have to get this work done,” I said, staring at her. Green eyes, a slender body. Her. I hoped thecashier wouldn't notice the slight quaver in my voice as I explained mypoint of view, which was I was guilty as could be and I had no excuse. I stared at my feet as the cops escorted me to the car (they didn'tcuff me), and I overheard a couple of racist comments from other peoplein the store. I wanted to punch everyone in the face. I was so full ofanger and self-loathing. My skin crawled, my clothes disgusted me.So this is how it ends, I thought at the police station while. “Thanks! I’m biking into Milford and I’ll meet Ed there. And you’re right, of course.”After breakfast, I did my laundry and started sorting through my things to decide what to take to Chicago, what to throw away and what to leave behind. Dad had said I could keep the room set up and leave as much stuff as I wanted for at least the first year, and after that we’d talk. I knew my mom had designs on the room, but Dad had stood firm. I knew he wanted to leave open the possibility that I’d stay at. Her legs went tight and she bounced down onto the bed awkwardly, the throes of an orgasm tearing through her with a euphoric fury. I felt each contraction on my face as her pussy leaked lube onto my tongue and cheeks. Her hands made fists and pulled the covers into balls as she came.I didn't even wait for it to stop. I flipped her onto her back and pulled her panties to her knees, covering her pussy with my mouth and watering her with my wet tongue. She bowed upward like she was still riding.