As predictably as the rising sun, at some point on every trip, he would place a hand on her knee, or her shoulder or some other non-strategic female r...al estate, or casually wrap his arm around her waist. Never would he do anything tacky like grab a boob, or run his hand up under her skirt, not Johnny. Then he would whisper some suggestive but non-graphic proposition like; warm my sheets, or rub my back, never something tacky like fuck me or suck my cock, not Johnny. And then he would wait. “Morning, dad. Morning mom,” Samantha said, with little Billy in tow. “Sleep okay?”“I’m fine dear. Your father, not so much.”“You okay, dad? Had a hard one last night?”“W-what?”“A hard night? I know it’s hard settling in a unfamiliar place. Took me a while to get used to here, too.”I felt my cheeks got red. “I’ll be fine. The bed was quite comfortable.”“I’m glad. I hope I didn’t disturb you. I swear I sleepwalk or something. Paul complains that I’m always talking and doing things with my hands. More

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