”“They’re OK with what we’re doing?”“They are. Dad thinks we’re having sex, but Mom knows we aren’t. But we’re together enough that ...ad thinks you’re my boyfriend, and it’s easier to keep it that way!”I chuckled, “I can see how that would be the case.”We got up and dressed and I walked up the hill to the Jonssons’, where I quickly showered and joined Patrick for breakfast. Anders came to the table about ten minutes later and looked pretty hungover. Anders provided more than enough motivation. Here in New York, he was a banker and ran a hedge fund. Handy guy to know.Over dinner, the three of us chatted easily — mostly about our kids. Mindy and Walker. Who, for a short while, were an item. Their little affair couldn’t survive Mindy’s Stanford matriculation. Too many miles, too many years, separated them.After dinner, over balloons of Cognac, a pleasant blaze in their living room fireplace, Phillip asked, “Why diamonds?”The Montgomerys knew about Dixie Wexler, about his taking me. There were four kids that I met, all about the same age to me, and we along very well. I guess I should tell you who my friends are, Well first there is Eric, he had black hair and a cute face. Next there is Steven, now Steven, so I was told by Eric, was the guy who was always looking for away to relief himself of sexual frustrations and would often talk about sex, and how he would go about relieving himself. Now there was Alvin, a kid who was on the quiet side, as if he had something to hide. "Shhh..." She began probing his scrotal sac with one hand and bringing his erection over to her mouth with the other. Her mouth descended and gave small, catlike licks to the head of the penis, very gentle. Alvaro sighed again in contentment.There. Her fingers had found what they were searching for, the tubular spermatic cords connecting his testes to the roof of his scrotal sac. She used her skills as a doctor, pressing her fingers inward and upward until the delicate ducts were lying pressed.