Blonde hottie Angel Youngs’s big natural tits bounce in her bathing suit as she waves Damion Dayski into her car wash. Angel soaps up Damion’s truck and hoses it off, but she spends more time sudsing her boobs and her booty in her little cutoff shorts. Damion gives Angel some help, and when she reaches into his pants, she can’t believe the size of his hose! Angel gives Damion a messy blowjob and His Hose Is Bigger, then brings him inside to use her pussy and lick up his cum!
Dillon fell in love with Lady. She was the dog he’d always wished he’d had. He walked her, he hugged her, he rubbed her belly, and he played with her. He must have thrown her soggy tennis balls a million times, and she happily ran them down and returned them to him, and softly dropped them at his feet.
Dillon became the next-door-neighbor-all-around helper to Katy and Cliff. He tended to Lady of course, but also took care of many other chores to make a little money. He helped in the yard, weeded their garden, cleaned the deck, shoveled their driveway when it snowed, fed their fish when they were away, among other things. Cliff traveled for his job, so oftentimes Katy was alone during the week and Dillon was a big help.
When Katy became pregnant, Dillon was nine years old and got a crash course on the birds and the bees and soon became her right-hand man. He helped her out as much as he could when Cliff wasn’t around. Whenever he noticed her pulling into her driveway, he’d run over and carry her packages or groceries or whatever else she had, inside for her. She worked as a real estate agent, so she was always lugging a bag full of papers and files.
Over the months, as her belly grew, Dillon had conversations with Katy like he’d never before had with an adult. She didn’t talk down to him, or treat him like a child. She was actually interested in what he had to His Hose Is Bigger.
“Do you want a boy or a girl?” he asked her one time.
“I don’t care,” she’d said. “I’ll love him or her either way. But if it’s a boy, I hope he’s just like you.”
They bonded over those expectant months. When Katy finally gave birth, she had a little boy. He was named after his father. Clifford Junior. Katy called him C.J. from the start. But it did not turn out to be the happy, blessed event everyone was expecting.
Before long it became obvious that something was not right with the little boy, and after umpteen tests and referrals and doctors and prayers and fits of angst and depression and optimism and hopelessness, they learned that their precious little boy had muscular dystrophy. And it wasn’t the run-of-the-mill, everyday muscular dystrophy, which was bad enough, but it was the ugly, ruthless, evil, black sheep cousin of M.D., the one that guaranteed a short life. Duchenne syndrome, they called it. C.J. was a very sick little boy.
After the phone call from his mother, Dillon went to work that day and went through the motions for eight hours. He was a salesman for a company that sold lawn, garden, and farm equipment, but he didn’t sell anything that day. Not even close. His heart and mind were far away. About the only thing he accomplished was to arrange to take a couple of days off so he could go back home, or what was once his home, and attend the funeral.
He got back to his apartment that night, ate a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of His Hose Is Bigger, and did a load of laundry. He was happy his roommate wasn’t around because he wasn’t in the mood to chit-chat. He had just started to pack a bag for the trip when his mother called and told him the funeral plans. There would be viewings on each of the next two nights, Wednesday and Thursday, and the funeral would be Friday morning. He decided he would work Wednesday, and drive there on Thursday for the viewing. If all went well he could attend the funeral on Friday, and have the weekend to visit with his folks and maybe a friend or two.
The first few years of C.J.’s life were a steady parade of doctor’s offices, tests, grim news and hopes for a miracle. It put a great strain on Katy and Cliff of course, and their marriage began to suffer. Katy was His Hose Is Bigger, but her sadness was a weight that became harder and harder to disguise. Cliff had a terrible time coping with having a terminally-ill child, as if his sperm were the cause of it and somehow made him less of a man. He appeared embarrassed and ashamed, and never bonded with his son. He traveled more and more, and drank more and more, distancing himself, trying to lessen the pain and desperation. As C.J. was growing up, his dad was not much of a factor. His parents eventually separated, got back together, separated again. Wash, Rinse, Repeat.
Dillon continued doing the chores Katy asked him to do, often with C.J. sitting in his wheelchair on the back deck, watching him. He’d always make a point to sit with C.J. for a while, and they would talk about things. His Hose Is Bigger. Especially sports.