In reference to the funeral and viewing last night.She is hugging me so tight that I could not move and then she moves her body so my cock was right i... line with her pussy. She looks at me and says" you need to take care of that don't you? I didn't know what to fucking say. Here I am in a towel my cock hard as a fucking pole, my wife asleep in the bedroom about 25 ft away, she could come out at any time and my daughter is referencing my cock touching her pussy.Shit, now what do I do I. Over and over and over.There was a tug on my sleeve.“Mick?”Kendi spoke quietly and got my attention.“Mick? How much longer are you going to walk?”“Huh?”“We are almost to the end of the river walk.”I looked around and saw that I was a long way from home. That was when I realized that my feet and knees hurt. I looked at Kendi and saw the concern on her face.“Sorry. Are you OK?”“Yes, but you’re limping.”“I am?”“Yeah. You don’t normally walk for an hour and a half.”“Has it been that. It still isn't wholly clear to you why you're here. Vague promises of a world in crisis were all that you were given before being unceremoniously flung through the space between spaces. Your employer (owner, maybe? The exact nature of your relationship is still a little nebulous) has sent you as his agent to avert this crisis, though how you are meant to do that is beyond you. A year ago you were working retail; two months ago a slightly better, still hopelessly mundane job. At your most. "I was kinda hoping for it." Oh?" I lied to the cop, Bill," she told me, her voice hitching, tears running from her good eye as she began to cry. "I remember everything that happened. Every last fucking thing."She broke down completely, sobs pouring out her, her chest heaving up and down. I got up out of my chair and sat on the edge of her bed. It was awkward with the cast and the pulleys and the IV line but I managed to get my arms around her and her head pulled against my shoulder. She cried.
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