Perhaps that could be my status update: “Hi world, just about to demolish a bottle of cheap, pink plonk … gosh, I’ve earned it”. Or the altern...tive: “Hi world, have taken up smoking because life’s too long.” Or: “My tiny world of happiness imploded spectacularly at 3.17pm and now I am going to drink and smoke myself into an early grave”. “Becky Astle updated her cover photo.” “What’s on your mind?” It had been one of those moments of déjà vu or premonition or both. I’d known that the phone was. She came downstairs slapped my face and rushed out into the street. I chased after her but a woman was coming down the street. She wore a dark blue nurse’s uniform under a blue tunic. Unfortunately for me and for her later as it turned out, this woman was the have a go heroine type. "Whats going on?" she shouted. I realised it looked pretty bad, much worse in fact than it actually was. I thought on my feet and even surprised myself by what I said next. "There’s an old lady lives here and that. I moved her arm from over me and slid out of the bed, I needed to shower. I spent a good long time in the shower, soaping my cock, which was always fun. I dried myself and with a towel around my waist went back to my room. Still there but now awake and sitting up was Jazz. Her eyes went straight from looking into mine to my crotch. I was still semi hard from the soaping and my cock was making a bulge in the towel. Now Jazz may be 16 but to me she had the innocence of a 12 year old (are there. Now, we’ve passed the ‘holding hands’ stage and the ‘friendly kiss’ stage. My arms are around her. Bad. Her arms are around me. Good. Better. A kiss. Best.A date on the calendar. She turns seventeen. That’s legal age of consent. Somewhere in the nearest future, we’ll get married. She’s not trying to gain a sugar daddy or whatever. I was with her when we set up a bank account and an investment account, and if she plays things conservatively, she won’t have to work unless she wants to.The happy.