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I was munching a little something, but nothing to ruin my appetite. Halfway down the highway was Plan C: a truckstop diner that was well-worth the heart attack.I made great time. I was back at the house of my childhood in not much more than two hours. A few steps inside the door and Mom was swooning in my arms like a long lost lover. I shared a manly handshake with Dad.When I returned from taking my things into the guestroom, it was to meet a reproachful look from Mom."Tony, that is your sister's room."Some things never change."Sure Mom, once upon a time."She refused to turn off the look."Come on! First come, first served. Sure it's Janine's old room, but it is my old bed. All the furniture is, or was, mine. Possessions being nine-tenths of the law and all, therefore... "I had Mom by the nape of a garbled truth.Being perennially two years older than me, Janine had long swooped home to gather up all the furniture from her old room by the time I'd finished college. My initial apartment. He unzipped it and shimmied it down her legs which she drew together for him to facilitate this manoeuvre and then spread widely again. The young man looked with wonderment at her tiny purple string. It had tiny V of see-through fabric at the front, only an inch wide at the top, and otherwise consisted of an ultra-thin lace string round her hips and through her crack. It hid not a thing; certainly not her mini landing strip which, even though very mini indeed, still popped out above the top. “You were wearing this when you spoke at the conference this morning?” he asked. “I was, Alan,” said Em. He sighed and placed a finger just inside the string and ran it up the short length of her pubic hair. “I wanted to fuck you as soon as you walked to the podium,” he said, running the finger back down her little line of hair and into her pussy. “You and about half the room, I expect,” Em said with a shudder of pleasure and a warm little laugh. “But you won the door prize.” Alan’s finger.
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