‘I didn’t ask if you were gay. You’re not, are you?’ ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell,’ I repeated, grinning now. He grinned in return. ‘Is ev...ry conversation with you like this?’ ‘Define ‘this’,’ I countered, grinning even wider. He sighed, making me laugh. I held out my hand. ‘Marci. Over 21. Maybe not gay. Maybe not as smart as I think I am.’ ‘Richard,’ he repeated, taking my hand. His palm was rough, his grip powerful behind the restrained handshake. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’ ‘I have one,’ I pointed. At Uncle Petey's old school, they taught him sex education, and occassionally they let the students co-habitat together to allow them to ease tension and they taught him how to masturbate. I learned all of this when I read his Communication Journals that were sent from his school when he came to live with us. My horny mind and the bulge in Uncle petey's pants made me say " Uncle Pete y come sit on the bed let me talk to you" I say. He comes and sits down, I purposely sit up and let the. More

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