I entered my friend’s house with his sister Gwaniella literally clinging to me. She held, by turns, my hand, my wrist, my arm, my shoulder. I wanted to cry out, “Do stop touching me.” But of course, in deference to my friend, Edin, her brother, I kept silent. To bear her displays of affection, I steeled my mind and pretended it was Adara who was pawing me. With that in mind, it didn’t feel like pawing at all. It felt like a pleasant kind of foreplay, a precursor to intercourse. I imagined the different ways I might have her: both of us standing, her sitting on my lap facing me, her sitting on my lap turned away from me, in bed in missionary position, in bed in wolf position, not to mention the feeling of her sweet mouth on my cock and my tongue inside her. These thoughts, these lusty fantasies, aroused me, of course, and I casually put my hands in my pockets, but stayed close to Gwaniella. No doubt her eyes were frequently on my crotch, but by staying close I
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