* * * * * Having sex never pleasured Glinda like her own dreams did. She’d tried a few times with guys she wasn’t that interested in, usually Jea...’s blind dates, but she just couldn’t come with them. She would thrust and thrust and open her eyes and see not Prince but someone so much less real groaning weakly on top of her. Glinda knew Jean meant well and in some ways was the only one who cared if she was alive — really living — or just going through the motions. But she didn’t go out on. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, shrugged it off, then kicked off his shoes. When his hands went to his waist, I stopped him. “I’ll help,” I said. I unbuttoned the fly, lowered the zipper. His pants started to sag, revealing the top band of his underwear and a bulge below. I pushed the pants aside and cupped the bulge, which was still growing. I pressed my face against the cloth, felt the heat within, smelled a not unpleasant muskiness. As I pressed my lips against the cloth, feeling his. It was just the thrill of knowing that we could do it, and the two of us sitting there in the cafeteria with this secret and being really turned on, and she had me talk about every detail and I told her how I would hold it and stroke it and lick it and suck it and when he came I would swallow every drop, and she would be there watching it all but she would never do anything of course, because like she said; “He's just your uncle so it's not even that bad, but to me he's my actual...” and she. ”“Sucks to be you.”“It does. But we have another show coming up.”She clapped sarcastically.“And we really need a drummer,” I pressed, despite my rising annoyance. “Want to give it a shot?”“Why would I want to do that?”“Because with drums and bass, our music could be really kick ass. We practice a ton and have a cool place to hang out and jam. A PA and everything.”She chewed her gum, eyeing me before returning to her business. “What kind of stuff do you play?”“We’re trying to do mostly.
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