“Erin… “Relax,” she murmured, her voice a soothing balm as one finger slipped inside him, slow and steady. “Indeed, she does.” John’s eyes sparkled with affection for his daughter. Larry’s absence left them free to explore his late wife’s cache, tucked away in the back of his closet. Her eyes locked onto his, conveying everything her voice couldn’t: understanding, desire, and an implicit promise of exploration without judgment. Don’t say no, you don’t want me to send Lori over, she will browbeat you until you say yes. He couldn’t afford to crumble now, not when things with Cheyenne had become so heated, so intoxicatingly alive. “Eat this black pussy,” she demanded as she sat on his face. “Just act normal.” But even as he coached himself, the tremor in his hands persisted, the telltale sign of nerves he couldn’t quite soothe. She reached for the top snap of her shorts, then lowered the zipper. “You did good tonight, Larry,” she said, her voice soft yet firm. In this intimate space, the language of bodies spoke louder than words ever could.
