.. will I cross it, can you carry me over?I shift nervously on my feet, skittering a little like a nervous yearling filly about to be saddled for the ...irst time – but, like an experienced horse-trainer, you are prepared and grip my apron waistband like a halter, keeping me in place.This is the moment when it all becomes real, for you are touching me sexually – there is no possible ambiguity as your fingers rub firmly on the crotch of my tights, finding the furrow of my cleft, teasing my slit. . I still had trouble in class, but Kendra was my friend. “You ... come ... stay with us,” I blurted out. “For Thanksgiving.”“I’m not looking for a handout, Arthur. I’ll be fine,” she said.“No. Our friend ... my friend ... please.” I was struggling. Word bubbles kept entering my throat and then popping. “I’ll paint your portrait!” That was it. That was what she wanted and I’d promised. Thanksgiving was a perfect time. Kendra’s head snapped around to look at me.“Really?” she whispered. I nodded.. More

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