‘Summer, Summer, Summer, I want you.’ * * * * * Summer was the kid sister of Christine’s steady boyfriend, her intended fiancée, thirty-year-ol... Hank. With him being thirty-years-old, I remember thinking that he was an old man. A time just after the John and Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King assassinations, the older generation had screwed up our planet, fouled the air, spoiled the water, and murdered our sons in an unwinnable war. Much like other young folks my age, I didn’t hold the older. I realized my robe was open a bit too much. He had a good look. I got up and approached him. I leaned over and kissed him. He reached inside my thighs as we kissed and he felt me up. I moan in to his kiss. I grabbed his face and kissed him hard. Our tounges wrestle. His fingers pushing into me. The lust between us growing every second. I dropped to my knees as he pushes away from the table. I reach for the belt of his robe. The hunger in my loins burning with lust. I free his cock for the first. More

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