I showered and then drove to his house to wait for him to get home. When Marc drove up, I admit, my heart began to race. I needed his cock. Once insid... his door, I slid to my knees in front of him and began kissing his cock through his pants. “Oh yeah. You want that cock don’t you?” he said. I couldn't pretend anymore, I didn’t want to pretend anymore. “Yes” I said shyly, “I love your big cock.” I undid his belt and pulled down his zipper. I slid down Marc’s pants and shorts and stared at his. Or was there? Staring up at the ceiling from where I lay, I thought things through. Mom felt guilty because she believed she was responsible for Dad's death. Well, when I was young and knew, deep down inside, that I'd done wrong, I always felt better in the end if I was caught and punished by my father, even if it hurt. Dad was fair but pretty strict, and whenever I really got out of line, he'd spank me -- right on my bare bottom if the offense was serious enough. For the first time, I. More

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