..." Paul said in a dreamy tone than seemed as if he were in a deep state of enchantment. He identified the author of those words to be those of the g...eat American poet Walt Whitman before he resumed sucking on my cock. I came fond of these strange interludes when he'd stop and quote a poet in the middle of a sexual activity. For Paul was never frivilous nor merely a transitory pleasure. Sometimes he referred to his lovers as his "little poems". As Ty and Yukio continued fucking before us,. I find myself shivering a bit and -after casting a last glance in the mirror- I make my way back and slip into my warm bed. The sheets feel different upon my naked skin. I like it, but somehow the quivering inside deepens. I pull my pillow to me as a companion and slowly the quivering subsides as I drift away.This has happened almost every night for the past month or so. I wake in the morning before my father and slip back into my night clothes. Except for the few nights during my period. I. The couch. My Dad's chair where just an hour before he was lacing up his work boots, reminding me that Uncle Bill was taking me to school that morning. I could hear the TV behind me, tuned to VH1 as it was every morning. Oasis's "Wonderwall" supplied the background soundtrack to this mad scene of uncontrollable, savage carnality. How the hell did this happen? Seemingly minutes before I had just stepped out of the shower, quickly toweling my body and hair and getting ready to plug in my blow. I looked down and noticed I had come all over the floor in front of me. I stepped back into the hallway and walked back downstairs. As I could hear them starting back up a new sex session I snuck out the backdoor and left home.I thought I would let her play this out and figure out the next time they were going to meet again. That night I bought a camera fitted with a special transmitter and hooked them up secretly so I could see when something was going on inside our bedroom…My plan was working.