Chapter 19

When our report cards arrived, Gina called me before I even realized that the mail had been delivered.

“I made the Dean’s List, Paul!” she gushed.

“Congratulations,” I said.

“I got an A- in Chemistry, bummer, but the rest were straight As. So, what did you get?”

“Hold on a second,” I said. I covered the mouthpiece as I yelled for Mom, asking her where she’d put the mail. She hadn’t gotten it from the mailbox yet, so I told Gina to hold on. Then I set down the receiver and dashed to the end of the driveway. I returned, winded, holding the mail. Mom and Erin gathered at my elbow as I cradled the phone to my ear and tore into the official UT envelope. In nervous silence, I scanned the computer-printed card. “Straight As,” I finally said, pride swelling my chest.

“Congratulations,” Gina, Mom, and Erin said simultaneously.

Gina and I talked for a few more minutes, both of us excited by our grades. When we said goodbye, I immediately called Kendall to tell her the good news.

“Congratulations,” she said, albeit a little half-heartedly.

“What’s the matter?” I asked. Then, “You got a C in O. Chem., right?”

“Yes.”

“So? That’s still good enough for the Dean’s List.” We’d done the math, and she could get a D and still make the Dean’s List.

“But I also got a B- in French,” she said miserably.

I did some quick math in my head. Her unexpected B- had dropped her quarter GPA just enough to miss the 3.5 required for the Dean’s List. “Oh, Kendall,” I said at last, “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sure my term paper and final exam dragged me down,” she said. “I was borderline anyway. I hate French. I’m never going to use it, so why do they even require a foreign language in the first place? I should’ve taken Latin instead.”

“Why did you take French instead of Latin?” I asked.

“I thought it’d be romantic,” she scoffed. “Some romance! Stupid language.”

I commiserated with her for a few minutes, but then I turned the conversation to a more positive subject: her trip to Atlanta. She was as excited as I was, and we talked for another twenty minutes about what we wanted to do while she was in town.

When we said goodbye, she was still a little upset about her grades, but she was in a much better mood than when I first called. And from the sound of things, I was in for a fun weekend.

That night, I spent the night with Gina. When we got up the next morning, I helped her pack. She was excited about the trip with Regan and her other sorority sisters. Leah was a bit jealous, but she wasn’t huffy about it.

“Sororities do stuff like this all the time,” Gina told her. “You can join one when you go to college.”

“Do you think I’d get in?” Leah asked.

Gina grinned at me slyly and then turned to her younger sister. “I think you’d make a great Chi O.”

“What are some other good sororities?” Leah asked.

“Alpha Delta Pi is good,” Gina said. “So is Kappa Delta. I almost joined the Tri-Delts, Delta Delta Delta, but...”

As the girls talked about sororities, I simply listened. Gina and Leah might have their sisterly spats, but they did love each other. And Gina was doing her level best to improve Leah’s self-confidence.

When Gina finished packing, I loaded her things into her mother’s station wagon. Leah wanted to drive, but she wasn’t allowed on the interstate yet, so Elizabeth drove us instead.

At the departure gate, Gina ran toward the group of her friends. Then she introduced her mother and sister to her sorority sisters. Regan, Margot, and Jessica remembered me, of course, but Hayley greeted me as if for the first time.

Strike four, Hayley? I mused silently, suppressing a grimace.

Even though I was Gina’s boyfriend, Hayley gave me an appraising look. Gina’s eyes hardened, but when I didn’t react to the unspoken offer, she seemed to relax.

As we waited for the flight to begin boarding, the girls talked to each other. Leah joined in, thrilled by the chance to talk with college girls. Elizabeth, Jessica, and I sat apart, talking about hotels.

Finally, the gate agent called for boarding to begin. I hugged Gina a final time and then watched as the gaggle of girls walked down the jetway.

Elizabeth, Leah, and I waited until the plane pushed back from the gate and then headed out to the car.

“Mom?” Leah asked. “Can I drive home? Please?”

Elizabeth glanced at me sidelong.

Leah was trying to appear grown up, which hadn’t escaped her mother’s notice.

“Oh,” Elizabeth mused, “I think you’re probably ready to conquer the Perimeter.”

Leah practically jumped for joy.

Her mother flashed me a knowing smile.

I chuckled to myself. In the jaded way that only an eighteen-year-old can manage, I watched Leah and realized that I’d once been that young, too.

That evening, the phone rang and I answered it. It was my dad; he was in Cincinnati. Another flight—from Atlanta to New York City—had a malfunction, he explained, and the plane was grounded. To make matters worse, the flight crew had gone illegal before the plane could be repaired.

(As a safety measure, the FAA regulates the amount of time that any aircrew can fly. If the pilots or crew go over that time, it’s illegal for them to work. The airlines go to great lengths to schedule their crews so they don’t “go illegal” before they begin their flights.)

With the grounded plane and illegal crew, the company had to scramble to find replacements. By some quirk of aircrew scheduling, the company had decided that the quickest solution was for my dad’s crew to deadhead from Cincinnati to Atlanta and fly a rescheduled flight to New York City.

“But once we get there,” he said, “we’ll be illegal ourselves, especially with the air traffic controllers’ strike.”

“I guess I’m lucky,” I said. “Since I usually fly to uncontrolled fields, the strike isn’t a big deal for me.”

“No kidding. It took us more than two hours to get a landing slot the last time I flew into O’Hare,” Dad said. “We spent the entire time circling over the lake. They had us stacked up every thousand feet, for miles. I swear, son, I’ve never seen so much commercial traffic in one place. Outside of an airport, I mean.”

“That sucks,” I said.

“No fucking kidding,” he griped. “The controllers wanted more pay for less work? Hell, son, I’d like to get paid more for flying less. And they complain about their stressful jobs? Try being a pilot sometime, guys. Ah, fuck ‘em all. Reagan was right to fire ‘em.”

I was a little shocked by my father’s anger, since he was normally an easy-going guy.

“I’m sorry, son,” he said at my silence. “I didn’t wanna talk about the strike, but it’s endangering passengers’ lives and it’s making my life more stressful. Besides, since the airlines have cut the number of flights, I’m not making— Sorry, there I go again,” he said apologetically.

“That’s okay, Dad,” I said at last.

At that point, he took a deep breath. A moment later, calmer, he finished explaining the situation with the flight to New York. Airline scheduling is arcane, at best, but the end result was that my father and his crew would have a two-day layover in New York City.

“So I thought you, Erin, and your mom could come to New York,” Dad said. “I can trade trips with one of the First Officers already there, and I think I can swing it so I’ve got the whole weekend before I have to work again.”

“I’d love to, Dad,” I said, “but Kendall’s coming in for the weekend, so...”

“Ah...,” he said knowingly.

“Um ... yeah.”

“Well, then,” he said, “let me see if I can entice your mom and Erin into a little Christmas shopping on Fifth Avenue.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to twist their arms,” I said laconically.

“I think you’re right, son,” he said with a laugh.

“Hold on,” I said. “Lemme get Mom.”

When my mom got on the phone, she listened for a minute. Then her eyes lit up.

“What?” Erin asked, sensing Mom’s excitement.

“Saks?” Mom asked Dad. “Tiffany? Harry Winston?” When Dad said something, Mom smiled knowingly. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“What?!” Erin asked impatiently.

I explained the situation, along with Dad’s offer.

“New York?” Erin whispered to herself. Then she looked up, her eyes aglow.

“I’ll call and get on the stand-by list,” Mom was saying to Dad. Then they discussed where they were going to meet once in the city. Finally, “Okay. I love you too. Bye-bye.”

“Are we really going shopping in New York?” Erin asked.

Mom nodded.

“Cool.”

“You don’t mind staying here?” Mom asked me after Erin ran to her room to begin packing.

I shook my head.

“Are you sure? We could get a ticket for Kendall, if you want to go.”

It was tempting, but I didn’t think Kendall was ready to get on a plane, even if it involved Christmas shopping in New York City.

To my surprise, Mom grinned when I shook my head.

“What?” I asked.

“You and Kendall will have the house to yourselves,” she said.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” I admitted. Then, as I imagined the possibilities, I smiled.

Thursday afternoon, I called Kendall to let her know I was on my way. The drive to Chattanooga was uneventful, but when I got to her house, there was a dark blue Ford Crown Victoria in her driveway. I’d never seen it before.

For a moment, I grew anxious, but then I shook off the feeling and went to the front door. To my surprise, Kendall’s father opened it. He was wearing a coat and tie, obviously his work clothes.

“Hello, Paul,” he said, his voice deep and even.

“Um ... hi, Adam,” I said, trying not to sound as nervous as I was.

“C’mon in. Kendall’s almost ready.”

Inside, I saw another man—also in a sport coat.

He stared at me, his eyes hard and flat.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Adam said, “everything’s fine. This is my partner, Detective Dahlgren,” he explained without elaborating.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

Adam turned back to me and said, “Maybe we should step outside after all.” Then he grabbed his trench coat and gestured toward the front door.

As he put on his coat, I couldn’t help but notice the holstered pistol beneath his left arm. He looked just like the cops in the movies, only bigger. When he shut the front door, he strolled toward my Jeep. He tried to look nonchalant, but I’d spent too many years as a wrestler not to notice the controlled tension in his shoulders.

“If Kendall knew we were having this discussion,” he began, “I’d never hear the end of it. So let’s just keep this between us men.”

I nodded, my mouth going dry.

“It’s time for you and me to have a talk.”

“Um ... sure.”

“Are you sleeping with my daughter?” he asked bluntly.

At that point, I wondered how much it would hurt when he killed me.

He regarded me levelly, studying my emotions, his eyes flinty.

Even though the weather was windy and cold, I broke out in a sweat. My heart thudded in my ears. Then I swallowed hard and tried to get my emotions under control. Any minute now, he was going to...

“Relax, son,” he said, his voice softening. “Just breathe.”

My nostrils flared and I nodded jerkily.

“Are you sleeping with my daughter?” he asked again, a moment later.

If I told him the truth, he’d kill me. But if I lied to him, he’d know the lie for what it was, which meant that he’d kill me. Either way, I was dead. But I had to tell him something. I finally decided that if I were going to die, I wanted to die like a man. Polonius was a pompous windbag, I thought peevishly. “Yes, sir,” I answered at last. Then I waited for the axe to fall.

“Keep breathing, son,” Adam said, his voice oddly soothing. “I don’t wanna have to explain why you passed out and cracked your skull.” When I took a deep, jagged breath, he continued. “I didn’t think you’d tell me the truth so quickly,” he said absently. Then, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’re not?” I tried not to sound amazed, but I don’t think I succeeded.

“Of course not,” he scoffed. “I’m just surprised that you came clean so fast.”

“What would you have done if I’d lied?” I asked.

“I would’ve put the fear of God in you,” he said frankly. “Believe me, I’ve spent the last ten years intimidating murder suspects,” he explained. “And don’t take this the wrong way, son, but you’d’ve been a pushover.”

I started to bristle with foolish machismo.

“I said relax, son. There’s nothing wrong with being scared. I know a thing or two about fear, and it’s a healthy reaction. But that’s neither here nor there. Right now, we need to come to an agreement.”

“An agreement?”

“Son,” he said, looking me in the eye, “my little girl hasn’t been ‘little’ since she was fourteen. I’ve known that all along, but she’s still my little girl. She always will be.”

I nodded, my blood still singing with adrenaline.

“So you and me need to come to an agreement. And it’s all about trust, son. If you were willing to face me down and tell the truth, then I guess you’re a stand-up guy. Part of me doesn’t really like it, but I don’t have a choice, now do I? So I guess I have to trust you with my daughter,” he said.

“Trust me with your daughter?” I repeated, a little—no, a lot—confused. “Whaddyou...? I mean, why...? Um ... I don’t understand.”

“I told you, it’s all about trust. And I wanted to see how you’d react when I confronted you. If I can’t trust you to be a man and do what’s right, then how can I trust you to treat my daughter right? I expected you to come clean ... eventually. But you surprised me. I thought I’d have to grill you longer.”

“So this was some kind of interrogation?”

To my surprise, he laughed humorlessly. “I guess it was,” he said at last.

“Why?”

“Son, I’ve known that you and Kendall were sleeping together for a couple of years.”

“You have?” I rasped.

“Of course I have,” he said. “I’m not blind. I’m not stupid, either.”

“I didn’t—”

“Relax. I said I wasn’t going to hurt you,” he said. Then, “You want to know why I haven’t done anything, if I’ve known all along that you were sleeping with my daughter, right?”

I swallowed hard and then nodded.

“In my line of work, it’s best not to let on what you know and what you don’t. I’m no Colombo, but I’m pretty good at it. I knew you two were ... you know,” he said. “But she seemed happier than ever, so I let it slide. Besides, I knew it was going to happen someday.”

“But why ask now?” I asked after a moment.

“Well, to hear Kendall talk, you two seem to be getting pretty serious. So I figured it was high time that you and me had a chat about your future.”

“My ... future?”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “She’s a woman, and I know that. Women have ... needs. I know that too. But you and me need to get one thing straight: as long as you treat her right, I’ll let you live.”

I laughed nervously.

“I’m not kidding,” he said flatly.

“But...”

“Don’t worry, this isn’t a shotgun wedding or anything. I know you two have a ways to go before anyone mentions marriage, but I wanted to make sure you understood your responsibilities.”

“Responsibilities?” Marriage?!

“Responsibilities,” he said simply. “You’re a good kid, and I like you, but she’s still my daughter.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So you take care of her. And don’t do anything stupid like get her pregnant. She’s got big plans, and I want to see her accomplish them.”

I nodded.

“If you end up as my son-in-law ... I’d like that. If not ... you’re still a lucky little punk,” he said, smiling for the first time since I arrived. Then he turned serious again. “One final word,” he said. When I nodded, he continued. “Kendall never finds out we had this conversation. As far as she’s concerned, I don’t know a thing about you two sleeping together. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. And you don’t have to call me sir.” At my confused look, he laughed. “Relax, son. You’re wound tight as a drum.”

“Yes, si— I mean, yes.”

“Now,” he said with a nod, “let’s go back inside before Kendall figures out what we’re up to.”

I nodded, my skin tingling as my system purged the adrenaline. As soon as Adam and I stepped inside, Kendall came out of the kitchen, alerted by the sound of the front door. The man in the sport coat emerged behind her. At some unseen signal from Adam, the man’s attitude changed.

Then Adam looked back at me as he took off his trench coat. “Have you thought about putting a winch on the Jeep?” he asked conversationally.

I had no idea what he was talking about.

“It’d be good for gettin’ out of trouble,” he continued. “I mean, sometimes four-wheel drive isn’t enough.” Then he looked at me expectantly.

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I muttered.

“I was thinkin’ about putting a winch on the Scout,” he said. “But I haven’t had the time to do it.”

“Have you two been doing some ‘male bonding,’ Daddy? Is that why you had Uncle Lou running interference?” Kendall asked. Then she flashed me an apologetic look and rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

“That’s what men do, baby doll,” Adam boomed. Then he clapped me on the shoulder. “Paul understands what being a man is about. Don’t you, son?”

I caught his meaning, even if Kendall didn’t, so I nodded.

“Oh, Daddy,” Kendall said indulgently, smiling.

I was shocked by how effortlessly Adam changed from hardnosed cop to genial father. He was a surprisingly good actor.

Note to self: Don’t underestimate Adam.

Second note to self: Don’t underestimate Adam. Ever. Really. I mean it.

“C’mon, Paul,” he said. “I want you to meet Lou Dahlgren, my partner.”

When Adam formally introduced us, Lou and I shook hands. He squeezed, and I tightened my grip in reply—hard, but not challenging.

“So,” he said, smiling benevolently, “you’re the guy who stole little Kendall’s heart.”

“Uncle Lou,” Kendall said, her cheeks coloring.

Lou and I exchanged a few pleasantries, but I got the impression that he was a man of few words.

“C’mon,” Adam said at last, to me. “I’ll help you load Kendall’s things. She’s just like her mother; she doesn’t know how to pack light.”

I have truly stepped beyond the Looking Glass, I thought. Then I schooled my expression and reached for Kendall’s suitcase.

“What were you and my father really talking about?” Kendall asked as soon as we pulled out of her driveway.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said, still a little shell-shocked.

“He doesn’t know that we’ll have your house to ourselves, does he?”

I shook my head.

“Good. Because he and my mom think your family will be there.” A moment later, she looked at me, panicky. “He doesn’t suspect that you and I are sleeping together, does he?” she asked.

“Do you think I’d still be alive if he did?” I asked. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it neatly skirted the truth.

“Good point,” she said, relaxing. Then, “So, what were you talking about?”

“Winches,” I said glibly.

“I don’t believe you for a second. You’re up to something.”

“Kendall,” I said seriously, “don’t ask. For the love of God, don’t ask. I don’t wanna lie to you, but I’m not gonna tell you what we were talking about either.”

“Is it serious?” she asked, suddenly concerned.

“It’s ... between your dad and me,” I said. “Just trust me. Okay? It’s nothing bad. It’s just ... well ... it’s a guy thing.”

Unfortunately, I think I piqued her curiosity more than put her off. A curious Kendall could be a bad thing or a good thing, depending on the circumstances. At the moment, it would be a bad thing, since I didn’t know how she’d take the revelation about what her father really knew.

Drew had tried to warn me, in his own way, but I guess I’d never seriously considered that Adam might know the truth. He was a lot more perceptive than I’d first thought. (Susan had told me something similar.) And while he wasn’t dangerous, per se, I definitely didn’t want to get on his bad side.

“It’s just a guy thing,” I repeated quietly. I don’t think Kendall truly accepted my answer, but it was the best she was going to get.

At my house, I had taken a cue from Susan and cleared out one of my dresser drawers for Kendall. Her eyes welled up when I showed her. (Unfortunately, she’d brought a lot more clothes than one drawer would hold.)

“Oh, Paul, thank you,” she gushed. “It’s almost like we live together.”

“Almost,” I said faintly. Then, “Here, lemme clear out another drawer for the rest of your stuff.”

After I did, she unpacked her things.

Later, she wanted to cook me dinner. So she shooed me out of the kitchen and told me to “go watch TV or something.” A little while later, she stuck her head into the living room and asked if my parents had any white wine. We did, of course, so I grabbed a bottle from the wet bar. After Kendall put it in the refrigerator, she emerged from the kitchen.

“The chicken will take another thirty minutes,” she said. “Why don’t you go ahead and change for dinner,” she suggested.

“‘Change for dinner’?”

“I thought maybe we could dress up, and have a nice candlelit dinner.”

“Sure,” I said.

My Brooks Brothers suit was in Knoxville, but I had a couple of sport coats in my closet. Unfortunately, they were all too tight through the shoulders, so I settled on a dress shirt, tie, and slacks. A few minutes later, Kendall practically burst into the room.

“It’s hard to cook a gourmet meal and get dressed at the same time,” she said breathlessly. Then she ushered me out of the room so she could change clothes in private. “To maintain the mystique,” she said. “And don’t go into the dining room yet,” she admonished.

I nodded and tried not to chuckle. She was going to a great deal of trouble to create a romantic evening, and I wasn’t about to spoil it by snickering.

When she emerged from my bedroom, she was wearing the silver dress that Susan had bought her. She blew me a kiss as she rushed by, headed for the kitchen. Since I had skipped lunch, the scents wafting from the oven were starting to make my stomach growl.

Once Kendall was ready, she turned out the dining room lights and appeared in the doorway, a nimbus of candlelight surrounding her. I stood and smoothed my slacks. In her heels, Kendall was actually a little taller than I, so I stretched upward to kiss her. Then I pulled her close and kissed her harder.

“Thanks for fixing dinner,” I said.

She lowered her eyes and smiled shyly.

“Although ... the way you look in this dress, I might just decide to skip dinner and see how you look out of it.”

We ended up having dinner after all. She had fixed roast chicken with new potatoes and corn, along with a salad. I tried not to eat too much, but it was delicious.

Afterward, we let the candles burn down and finished the bottle of wine. Then we moved to the living room couch. From there, things quickly progressed to my bedroom. Kendall looked even better without the dress, but I didn’t have much time to admire her body, since she knelt in front of me and began teasing my dick with gentle kisses.

“If you’re a good girl,” I promised, stroking myself as she kissed my balls, “I’ll come on your face.”

With that, she immediately opened her mouth and wordlessly begged me to let her suck my dick.

“Stick out your tongue,” I directed, and she did. Then I ran the underside ridge of my cock along her tongue. The crown of my shaft entered her mouth, but I pulled back quickly, teasing her.

She moaned in frustration.

“Okay, you can suck me,” I said at last. When she wrapped her lips around my glans, I sighed quietly. Then, “Oh, that’s nice.”

For the next several minutes, she sucked me, trying to swallow as much of my length as she could. Even though I had promised to come on her face, I wanted to take my time. So I relaxed and simply enjoyed myself as I watched her fellate me.

“Stand up,” I said a little while later. “I want to fuck you.”

“But...”

“I know,” I replied. “But I want to fuck you first.”

When she stood, I bent her over my dresser. Then I concentrated on the round, voluptuous curves of her ass. With a hand on each cheek, I spread her open. Then I eased my shiny cock between her alabaster thighs. I felt the warmth and heat of her pussy, which sent shivers of anticipation up my spine.

Finally, I pulled back and used one hand to steady my dick at her opening. She gasped when my bulbous glans spread her open. After I slid the first couple of inches into her, I stopped. Her pussy was tight, very tight, and I usually had to ease into her. This time was no exception, so I pulled back and prepared for another slow thrust.

Kendall moaned when I sank half my length into her pussy. When I went to pull back, her inner walls gripped me, their heat infusing my senses and making me lightheaded. Another thrust and I buried most of my length. With a grunt, I pulled back, the ridge at the crown of my cock making her shudder in ecstasy.

After teasing her for almost a minute, I finally jerked my hips forward and slammed home, her ass rippling with the impact. When I looked at her face in the mirror, it was contorted in pleasure.

As I began thrusting, my eyes were drawn to her pendulous breasts. Each time I slammed into her, they swayed in opposite directions, gravity eventually reuniting them in the middle. Their motion was hypnotic, and I soon fell into a rhythm.

In order to keep from coming too soon, I made a little game out of trying to influence the swinging of her breasts. The harder I thrust, the wider the circles. When I slowed down, her breasts slowed down as well, gently swaying side-to-side. I picked up my pace again, watching her hanging globes widen their arc and then slap together.

Suddenly, I remembered the conversation with Wren on the ride down from Knoxville. Even though Kendall’s pussy felt incredible, I pulled out, causing her to grimace at the loss.

“Lie on the bed,” I directed without explanation.

“Where are you going?” she asked as I headed for the door.

“Just lie down,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

In the bathroom, I quickly found what I was looking for. When I got back to my room, Kendall looked at me curiously.

“Lie down,” I said, gesturing at the bed. “On your back.”

“What’re you—”

I rolled my eyes and simply pointed at the bed.

With a confused look, Kendall crawled onto the bed and lay on her back.

I flipped open the cap on the bottle I’d brought from the bathroom. Then I squirted a zigzag line of baby oil in the shallow valley between Kendall’s flattened breasts.

“What’re you doing?” she asked.

“I’m going to fuck your tits,” I said.

Her eyes widened in sudden understanding. And anticipation.

“And then I’m going to come on your face.”

“What should I do?” she asked eagerly.

“Just spread the oil around and then push your breasts together,” I said as I straddled her chest.

Her eyes alight, she quickly complied.

I grinned as her fingers lingered over her sensitive nipples.

Then she grasped her pliant breasts and pushed them together, creating a mountain of tit-flesh with a crease in the middle.

I edged forward, my glans pointing at the crease. Then I gripped the base of my shaft and aimed. Finally, I eased forward and my dick slid between the warm flesh of her breasts.

When my pelvis finally brushed against her hands, I grinned at her. Then I tweaked her nipples, sending shivers of delight through her body.

Once I began thrusting, Kendall had a hard time holding on to her breasts. Her hands were slippery from the oil, and she had a lot of breast to hold on to. Nonetheless, I was getting worked up at the mere sight of my cock sliding between her mounds. I wasn’t in danger of coming, though, since I kept getting distracted each time she lost her grip.

Finally, I decided that fucking her tits was a fun visual, but it wasn’t the best way to have sex. So I squirted some baby oil into my palm and gripped my shaft. My cock was hard and red, and my hand glided over it. Kendall watched in fascination.

After stroking myself for several minutes, I hunched forward. Kendall sensed my impending explosion and lifted her head, her eyes glassy with lust. With a grunt, I arched my back, throwing my hips forward. My dick swelled, and I clenched my jaw in ecstasy.

When the first spurt arced out, Kendall gasped. My eyes were clamped shut, however, so I simply kept stroking myself. Three more hard spurts followed the first, and Kendall writhed as they splashed onto her face. Finally, the spurts slowed to gushes, and then the gushes to a trickle. I squeezed the base of my shaft and let out a final grunt.