"You hiding out?" she asked. "In between baking a cake, cooking pizzas and popcorn, and the noise, I needed a quick timeout. This seemed like as good ... place as any." The party was for Scott, my now eight-year-old son. We invited about a dozen of his buddies over for the afternoon. Jill, age twenty-seven, was his sister and technically my step-daughter. But since she was already living on her own when her mom Anne and I met, I wasn't really a father figure in her life. I'm just the guy her mom. “That’s close to where it really hurts. Push on it harder, and you can go a little lower.” My hands were now basically kneading his ass cheeks like bread dough. I loved the feel of my fingers on his hairy ass, and I knew I had gone past the point of clinical detachment. Something was going to happen, and I was a very willing participant. He was softly moaning, letting me know how good it was feeling, and I was loving it myself. Then, he rolled over, looking me directly in the eyes. He caught. More

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