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The knife in my gut had been twisted, hard. I felt like I was going to throw up or pass out, and I wasn’t sure which. I got into my Mustang, but rather than start it, I simply sat and stared at the front door of Jocelyn’s house.My vain hope that she would come after me didn’t come to pass, and after about five minutes I felt good enough to start the car, and pull out of the driveway. I drove slowly, and carefully, lost in my thoughts, until I arrived home. I backed into the driveway as I usually did, turned off the engine, put the car in gear, and set the parking brake. I got out, locked the car door, and walked slowly to the house.“Mike? I didn’t expect you home,” Mom said when I came through the front door.I shrugged and walked past her, up the stairs to my room. I shut the door, turned on the radio, and collapsed into bed. I stared at the ceiling, feeling as if I should be crying, but the tears didn’t come. All that came was a crushing weight on my chest, and a throbbing in my. I did not bother to change out of my weekend shorts. as it was only a quarter after twelve o’clock in the afternoon and I knew Harry and Jackie were not due home for another six or seven hours. My weekender clothing was a T-Shirt and a pair of shorts that were torn down the left front side from the waist band to just above the leg hem. I always dressed commando style around the home and with no boxer material in its path, my cock would often swing around and poke its head through the torn opening in the shorts. We lived up the incline behind Harry’s place and could look down into Harry’s driveway from our front yard. I had not seen any cars at Harry’s this morning when I looked, so as I was not expecting anyone to be home till 6:30 pm or later that evening. I ventured down the drive in my normal weekend muck around the workshop clothing, T-shirt and torn shorts, no boxers or briefs. We all know that the unexpected always goes hand in hand with “Murphy.” The waist band tie in my.
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