“Would you like to see the entire package?” she asked.“Sure,” I replied.She reached out and placed her hand right on my crotch.“Only . . .if... I get to see yours,” she said, biting down on her lower lip as she groped my manhood.I unzipped my trousers and lowered them so she could both see and feel her prize. She sat back on the edge of the desk, her eyes glued to my crotch. She dropped into a squat in front of me and fingered my steel rod, then pulled my trousers further down my legs. She took. She was nine and was too busy listening to her Ipod to feel anything about losing her father. Patrick, my seven-year-old, was the only one who had anything to say."Daddy, Jeff has a big house and we like him," Patrick explained, as if that would somehow make everything 'all better.'I just sat there looking at Casey and the kids as if they were fucking crazy. Maybe it's PMS or early menopause, I thought. Maybe this bitch is bipolar. Maybe she's high or drunk? Nah — I don't smell any alcohol on. More

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