Always treat her with respect and kindness. You’re damn lucky to have a Mother like her.” I would nod my head and say, “Sure Derk, I will.” I ...idn’t know what I was swearing allegiance to, after all every nine-year-old’s Mother is a saint to be worshipped and cherished. That short house painter, fixer-upper, who wore white clothes and a tie taught me to respect a person, no matter his status or position. He opened my mind to that value, one which we always are reminded of until the day we die,. She stayed in the middle unit, directly next to mine. She smiled and emptied the dust pan into the trash. "Yes... But I like cleaning. It lets me meet the neighbors. Just like this." she explained as she put away the broom. Even from behind, her breasts jiggled with every small movement. It's so hard to resist staring at them, especially after using them a week ago. She stood still. "You know... you don't have to act polite like that." she said quietly without turning to face me "we're both. It occupied my mind increasingly as the week wore on and as I became more sexually frustrated. I was perpetually hard, but I resisted relieving myself on the off chance that we might find a few minutes to be alone. My sexual frustration affected my concentration, which affected my ability to scheme to find a way to be with her. As the week wore on, it also affected my golf game. It had been a long week and Larry wanted to play 36 holes on Friday. We were scheduled to leave Saturday. Even for one night, I knew my stepdad would stay there. I swiped the card key through the door and walked into the suite. “Michael, I’m here. Where are you?” “Hey doll face. Glad you made it.” “I bought you some presents. Do you want to see what I got?” “Michael, what did you get me?” “Here is your first box.” I opened the box up. It was a slutty cheerleader outfit with matching pom pom’s. “Cute, you want me to wear this?” “Fuck yes. You'll look so hot. Go put it on. Put your hair in.