. Again, I sent you away, afraid that I wouldn't be able to hold back from fucking you unless we stopped...I'd look in on you when I went to bed. You'... often be sitting up reading, and I'd kiss you and briefly fondle your breasts ... One night, you threw back the bedclothes and asked me to touch you. You were wearing a short nightdress, your bare legs gleaming in the dim light of the bedside lamp...'No, ' I said. Your face fell — I saw the look of surprise and hurt in your eyes, seeing them. My mother had no problem with Marisa moving; it was the summer thing that had her up in arms. They stopped arguing after catching my expression; I did not find their laughter amusing.Michael's suggesting it was a good idea did not help. He made some dumb-ass excuse about feeling better if Marisa did not have an opportunity to rethink her decision to marry him when she met a couple of freshman studs. No one acknowledged him.I tried to make my own butt-stupid excuses, like telling Marisa living. More

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