When she bent at the waist to move something or to put it in the bag, her tight ass and slit would be the focus of his attention and the sight stirred something in him—a confusing cocktail of gratitude for her unasked kindness and an undeniable pulse of arousal that he felt ill-equipped to handle. Loneliness clawed at him, a demon that refused to be exorcised. He was torn, seeing her like this, naked on her knees with his swelling cock in her hands, when she had grown up calling him Uncle Larry. He’d taken her right there on the couch, their bodies moving in sync as they sought release from the haunting specter of mortality. Leaving him with that glimmer of hope, Cheyenne dressed quickly, her movements efficient yet graceful. “It’s going to be okay, Larry. After a couple of minutes of being fingered. Once they heard the knock, Larry rushed to the bathroom and turned on the shower, closing the door most of the way.
