Everything else was silent. His cheek flushed as the man gripped his face tightly, forcing him to look him in the eyes. ‘You,’ he spoke with a vo...ce like steel and gravel, ‘you have the eyes of a storyteller. What stories do you hold inside that skull of yours? Or do I need to slice it open?’ The young man’s eyes went wide. His lips fumbled about, producing no sound. Finally, he found words, and spoke. ‘No! Uh, I—I had an idea for a story about a boy who grows up in a small village, but then. Alan was thinking he wouldn’t mind getting rid of this audience if Louisa did indeed kiss the teen all over. Or even if she didn’t. Or if he did, or didn’t. He felt more like sex now than punishing the kids. He put some classical music on and sat down in his armchair, gesturing at his son to carry on with the cleanup.Callie went upstairs at a trot, determined not to seem reluctant. She hadn’t really had lez in mind for the kissing, but it needn’t be a problem need it? It just had to be. More

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