"Ok," I said. "Let's put everything on the table." I listed all the reasons she should go back from me going to jail to her finishing school to her pa...ent's probable anguish at her being gone without a trace.She countered with her reasons for not going back, which tragically were nothing more than simple communication failures. No physical abuse and little more than the kinds of yelling matches that seem to crop up between teens and parents when real communication break down. What she couldn't. She was smiling again while I rubbed her sopping wet pussy. That sounded like a different language what is it Russian? She told me No, Its German. I just said oh right on! Do Germans like this? I moved my left hand to her back door and rubbed her rim. She just smiled and kept reading. I slid my pointer in her back door and I felt ti contract! Then it felt like her insides pushed back against my finger. Her ass loosed up quickly and so I had two fingers in each hole. I was focused of working her. I know it did. I saw her in it. That original dress she wore showed anyone who was noticing it just how shapely, slender, and potentially virile she could be. I was taken by it. Yes I was. She had originally offered me coffee and smiled as we talked and her eyes would beam brilliantly as if she tried warming my heart. It did do that. It was like she sat posing for pictures for me, like I was from some modeling agency. Like I said, when she came back she had put on an entirely different outfit.. "Right. Go and listen to some music. I've got some work to do." Do you want me to cook supper?" No. You're the birthday boy." Thanks, Lottë."Strains of a Chopin waltz drifted into the kitchen. Lottë opened up her laptop and then sat staring at it.'Twenty-nine from forty-five is sixteen, ' she thought. 'I know Daddy told me to find somebody younger but is sixteen years really too big an age gap? I don't want to live with anyone else though. I actually like his maturity. The trouble is he may.