Adult Content Warning: Erotic Fiction Stories for Mature Audiences Only WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life. If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century. Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2013 by The Technician Technician666@Gmail.Com. Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = * * * * * * * * * * * * Missy actually slept until almost noon, and she didn't come downstairs until almost one. She was wearing a light blue pair of "pajama jeans" that made it very difficult not to notice that she had a VERY enticing ass to match her cute face and sparkling eyes. I offered her some steak and eggs and she bantered back, "With or without a shot of whiskey?" Then she laughed. She had an almost musical laugh. If I weren't basically doing therapy with her, I would definitely be trying to do her. Well, maybe when we have other things sorted out, we might sort that out, too, but I had promised to help her and taking her to bed at this point wouldn't be helping her. After lunch I suggested that we sit out on the back deck. Again, if I wasn't trying to keep my distance, I would have suggested the hot tub located there. But for now, that would not be a good idea. The blue pajama jeans were bad enough. A bikini - or less - in a hot tub would probably be more than I could resist. After we were settled in with a glass of wine for her and a dark ale for me, she asked, "Where was I?" "You were eight years old and getting hot and squishy with David. …and then things took a turn
