There in the picture washimself last night, sat on his knees, eyes closed and mouth open. He wassweaty and the fringe of his hair had become matted. His chin glistenedwith a trail of cum. Doyle must have taken a picture after he hadfinished, when Art was washed over by waves of femininity. The momentafter Doyle had told him he had forgotten who Jessica was. Art frowned.He hadn't realised Doyle even had his phone out and now this picture wasbeing shared around. It was not a flattering picture at all, it was Artat his worse, at his most vulnerable. Art knew he should be alarmed. Heknew this was the kind of thing that would be the death of him if hisfriends saw it and recognised him, but he wasn't. He stared deep into thepicture. Yes, it was Art at his worst but it was Art at his mostfeminine. It wasn't even Art. It was Ally. The person in that picture wasa woman, nothing more.He looked out at the window. The faint reflection of Ally looked back,her hair framing the soft curves of her. Rod reached out and taking the girl's hand, he neatly pulled her into his encircling arm. Now her defenseless bum was safely resting against his protective groin. It was an island of peace and quiet in a chaotic scene.The girl looked up to him. He could see the gratitude in her eyes. He concentrated on fighting down the erection building because of the rubbing motion of his dormant cock against her scantily clad bottom."God ... Don't let it get hard now. All that the poor girl needed was another horny guy taking advantage of her."Clinging to his arm with all her strength, the pretty young thing blurted out,"I'm Emily ... Em for short ... Ever so grateful, Mr.?" Rod, er, Rod Harderson, at your service."He liked the girl's directness. Not a victim at all. This girl had a lot of spirit. She was someone to take along on the highway of love. Rod felt his erection slowly begin to rise. His battle was one-sided and nature would win out again. The girl looked up at him and smiled."It's all.
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