Good walls make good neighbors, Part 3 - Sex Stories

Good walls make good neighbors, Part 3

... conversation with some old friends of Dad’s. Four of them, I think. The oldest one was in his 50s and always treated me like his granddaughter, which I hadn’t liked for five years. As I let them get stuff on a stick, he put his head on my hand and twitched it around, drumming his fingertips on my scalp, and said, ‘Dancing squirrel!’ “’Remove the squirrel now or it dies,’ I said to him, real quiet-like, and everyone just looked at me, and you can be sure that hand was gone right away. “’So, Angie,’ another one of them asked, ‘what are you gonna do now?’ “‘College.’ “‘What in?’ “‘History.’ “He was famous in our circles as a know-it-all know-nothing smart ass, so he immediately asked, ‘Ooh, smart little girl! Will you be a Marxist historian or just a Marxist pseudo-historian? That’s all the history departments produce, you know.’ “Yeah, I was pissed off by that, so I immediately said, just like writing a paper, ‘No, German idealistic philosophy has been dead in academic history for the last century. Marx and Hegel? They’re not historians, just philosophers making it up as they went along. The major debate’s between the views of Dilthey and Ranke, the Neo-Kantians versus the empiricists. The Americans and English go for Ranke, the Continental Europeans go for Dilthey. To oversimplify, of course, but closer to the truth than anything you’ve said tonight.’ It felt good for about two seconds, then I felt sick and immediately apologized, which he took graciously enough and ...

... apologized himself, and treated me with a decent amount of respect after that. Or fear. Apologized to Grandpa Squirrel-Keeper too." Here we had finished eating, and she said, "Okay, it starts getting hotter after this." "Good point to take a break and clear the table," I said, which we did quickly. After we put the dishes in the sink to rinse, I just nodded, beckoned her with my finger, and started marching upstairs. She joined me and we quickly undressed; she kissed me deeply and rubbed against my half-erect cock for a moment. She then said, “Let’s lie down and make ourselves comfortable. This might take a while.” We lay down side by side, me on my back and her on her left side with her head in the crook of my arm. “Last time was really incredible, so just like then, don’t touch yourself. At all. Touch me if you want.” I did so, reaching over to play with her breasts, and she continued, “Anyway. One of the other men there was a lawyer a bit younger than Dad, mid-30s...oh, no need to be coy, he was 34; a few weeks later I could have given you his age to the day. Let’s just call him Phil. I always knew him as...oh, let’s say Mr. Prescott...when I was younger. He and Dad were pretty tight friends, and Mom liked him a lot too, which wasn’t true of all of Dad’s buddies. “Anyway, after I left and talked with Dad and he went to have a quiet word with Old-Fogey Groper Scum, Phil sat down next to me at the kitchen table and started talking to me like an adult. That cheered me right up, being ...