![]() ![]() When she moves, her breasts press against the soft fabric of the moon and jiggle a bit. I’m well fed, and Ash is wearing a threadbare Pink Floyd T-shirt that might be a relic from the eighties. I’m as hard as my Big Bertha driver, and my cock is pointing at the ceiling. And when Ash walks out of the bathroom a minute later, she actually gasps. Lord knows I’ve had plenty of practice imagining what life would be like if we were a couple. It’s not my fault if Ash is stressed out from a long evening of deception. Grinning up at the ceiling, I realize I’m having more fun than I’ve had in a long time. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” she says eventually. Then violent spitting, followed by rinsing. I hear a choking sound from the bathroom. “When you and I are married, your parents and I will get along great.” “I like your folks,” I say an hour later as I lie in bed. If only she’d give in to the inevitability of us. A warm house, soft lighting, great food, and they’re actually here. This is what a healthy, normal family looks like. I can’t help but like her parents and be a little envious of Ash. Power, and we compare all our favorite golf courses. ![]() ![]() The Power family indulges in all the usual Thanksgiving foods, except there’s also green tomato chow served with a slice of tourtiere, a spiced meat pie.Īfter dinner I wash dishes with Mr. I eat my weight in turkey with all the fixings, while Ash watches nervously. ![]()
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