What wrong?’ Fletcher turned and sat on the damp ground. It was late in the day, but it was still spring time. He tried to put up a brave front, ‘...i munchkin. I didn’t hear you come down.’ Marion sat on the bench and rested her hand on her Dad’s shoulder, ‘Don’t fool around. Sorrel’s in trouble and you’re scared.’ He looked at his fourteen year old girl. ‘Where did she get all this maturity? One day she was a little kid, and now she’s a woman.’ He answered, ‘Remember when we said we were going. “Talking can wait,” I breathe, “I’ve dreamed of this moment for three years. Please, just lick my pussy out.” All that time. Pent up, corralled, exposed to the hardship of life and death, day after day, month after month. I am aflame. There is a fury in me that wants only to be immediately and violently sated. All at once it boils over and there is little I can do but grip a fistful of his soft, long hair and tug him against me, jerking him home, time and again, tongue made to fuck at me. I. More

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