He was hard, and I was wet. Like an oar in a lock, he rowed us, one slow stroke at a time. Paul. Me. In unison. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. His semen str...amed into me, announcing his climax – warm, succulent, and surfeited. “I love you, Emily,” he whispered minutes later, lying at my side. I nudged his hip with mine. “This will be a pretty good memory.” “One of my favorites,” he said. “Do you think the neighbors saw us?” “Luckily, the legend of the memory star protects us. If they did see us,. Marcus had been in a foster home since the age of 10 with two other boysand a girl who was the only biological child of their foster parents.Her name was Jillian. She was 4 years older than Marcus and was verypretty. She had long blonde hair, blue eyes and often dressed in shortskirts, knee socks or over-the-knee socks and shiny patent leather maryjane flats or heels. She had an amazing collection of outfits too.Marcus was always a bit jealous of her because as the only biologicalchild (and. More

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