" "Sophie, I want to fuck you." He meant it this time. His voice was deep, and she could see his lust in his eyes. "No. Not yet. I want your fingers f...rst." She spread her legs, and he ran a finger along her wet slit. She sighed in contentment. She was enjoying this game. He probed crooking his finger inside the way she liked. She wriggled and moaned. He pumped his finger in and out. She squirmed beneath him, trying to direct him. "Tell me how to please you, Sophie. I want to please you." "Push. Then I did my school homework followed by dinnertime followed by the highlight of the day—story time. From the time of my earliest remembrance, every evening someone would tell a story. Sometimes more than one story would be told. They were usually stories about some episode in a family member’s life. It might be about how my grandparents met or about seeing Billy the Kid. It might be about the Pullman Strike or a hail storm that killed cattle and wiped out the crops. There were happy. More

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