" I said, not really thinking about it but needing to vent. "I keep striking out with girls. I don't know what's wrong with me, but..." Wait, wait..."...She stopped me. "Hold on a second. What do you mean you keep striking out? Didn't you just take that one girl, Stacy, out last night?" Um...yeah." I admitted lamely. "Yeah, I did, but..." But what?" emma asked. "That doesn't seem like striking out to me."I shrugged, not having any idea about what to say. I couldn't see myself admitting to my. ’ ‘A child? Are you sure? Whose is it? Is she… Are they alright? Where are they?’ The questions finally break free and tumble out of my mouth. It is only when I hear him clear his throat and look me in the eye that I realize that in order for him to be able to get an answer in I will have to compose myself, cease my inquiries, and listen. With the slightest hint of sarcasm he begins, ‘Fortunately, I still retain the ability to identify a child when I see one.’ He pauses a moment, making sure. That ‘jig’ as you called her is my friend! She’s a sweet girl, and I made her an offer that made her happy. I never took you for a racist, and I’m now ashamed that I had anything to do with you. I can’t believe I let you fuck me, knowing what I know now. Get the fuck away from me now, you asshole.”I then turned my back on him, and had all of the members of the Knitting Circle help me move the display cabinets, then move our tents as far apart as possible and still stay within the paint marks. I. He gave me one terrific orgasm before he finally climaxed. The whole time he was slamming his cock into me I kept hoping that Fred would put his finger in my ass. I couldn't tell him I wanted him to do it. He knew how sensitive I was and I knew he would never touch me there because I had asked him not to.When Fred's cock slipped out of me I had to cup my hand between my legs to keep from dripping on the floor as I headed for the bathroom to clean myself up. As I left the kitchen I look back.