He fell with a thud to the floor and winded himself. He dad left him there and both he and his mum left the room. He snivelled for a bit, imagining wh...t might happen should a neighbour come in to find a twelve year old boy on the floor with his shorts around his ankles and a red, possibly bloody ass. Finally deciding no such luck was about to occur he stood, gingerly pulled his shorts and underwear up, and made for the kitchen cupboard where the creams and ointments were kept. His mum had shown. Cynthia was sure Sorrel wasn’t wearing a bra, or if she was, it was of the most minimal type. Her long legs were accentuated by dark nylons, and rounded out by a pair of ivory colored low cut heels. Even through the slacks it was easy to discern the firmness of her long muscular legs. Cynthia hated her, ‘Sorrel, come over here. I’ve saved a seat for you at our table.’ Sorrel dutifully followed Cynthia to the hostess table. On an occasion like this being seated at the host and hostess table was. More

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