Four days later, he’s sitting on my couch in my college apartment, us finally alone.“Brock…I don’t know how to tell you this but I…I kinda�...” I lower my head, not sure of how to put it. His face twists, giving him an adorable confused look. He brushes a loose strand of dirty blonde hair from his eye. My eyes meet his, not sure of how to say it.He nods his head and slides over closer to me. “What’s up bud?” he says softly, is arm around me, rubbing my arm. This only makes me more nervous. I. “Then do it,” her mother answered.Bob had been watching and listening. He stared at his mother’s cunt, seeing her soft pussy hair beaded with her piss. His cock was half-hard.“I will, Mom,” he said, his voice low and filled with emotions.“Will what, darling?”“Taste your piss.”“Really?” Marla asked, delighted.Bob nodded, still staring at her wet pussy hair.Marla spread her thighs. “Okay, honey,” she murmured.Bob dropped to his knees, and holding his mother’s naked hips, pushed his face close to. Was I going to need to bulk up too?Coach Paterno took us to a table with some of the other coaches. Christian, his parents, Dad and I had a seat with Paul Adams, the Penn State receivers coach. He knew Christian and me from football camp back in June.Coach Adams was about my Dad's age, around 40. He talked with Mr. and Mrs. Hunsecker and Dad. It turned out they were all students at Penn State at the same time. Coach Adams played wide receiver for the Lions from 1985 to 1989. Mr. Hunsecker was. I smiled, which she might have misunderstood as smugness, thus ignored me. “Please take the auto,” I told her, “I can wait.” She looked at me with surprise, “Thank you.” Ah, her sweet voice. She entered the auto, and it was then as if she recalled something and looked at me carefully, and the auto left.I received an email the same night, just one sentence, “What are the chances to run into your therapist in a new city after so many years?” with a wink emoticon. I replied immediately with a.