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But I have to. It’s why I came here.

“I can’t do it anymore. I can’t just be his bitch and do his bidding. Not after what’s happened.” I thought the words would sting coming out of my lips. I thought I’d get that sinking feeling in my stomach that you get when you say something really difficult.

But to my surprise, it’s like a massive calm comes over me once they’ve left my mouth, and I’m staring at the world through new eyes.

Jim’s eyes light right up like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Bro!” he blurts out, clapping me on the shoulder. “I cannot believe you just said that. What brought this on? You take some shrooms and have a revelation or something?”

“Not quite.” I laugh and take a few minutes to relay the story to him about coming upon Yara on the side of the road, the truckers and me kicking the shit out of them, and how I’ve got her hidden up in my apartment, unable to tell Delilah about it. When I’m finished, Jim’s got this sly look in his eye.

“What?” I ask.

“So it’s her. You’ve got a thing for her.”

“Yeah,” I reply. “I guess I do.”

“You guess?” he laughs. “Bro, you’re ready to knock her up and make her have fifteen of your babies!”

Jim’s always been the yin to my yang, and I guess that’s why I knew I had to come over here after work today. We’re both cracking up and I have to set my beer on the coffee table so I don’t spill it.

Having a child with Delilah is the last thing I’d ever want to do, but is something I know she and her father would want to have happen down the line, but picturing Yara pregnant, with a baby belly and nice big swollen breasts, has me instantly turned on in a way I’ve never felt before.

“You know, I’m glad we’re boys, Jim,” I smile.

“I’m glad you finally made it back over here,” he laughs. I reach out and give him a pound, then get to my feet. “Whoa, you already leaving?”

“Sorry, man. I gotta get back.”

“For Delilah? I thought you said—”

“Not for Delilah.” I shake my head with a smile. Jim gets it immediately and grins.

“I getcha. Good luck, bro. Let me know how it goes with baby number one.”

Laughing, I head back out the door to my car and start the drive home. I can’t remember the last time in my life I felt this excited for anything. I check the time on my phone, and as long as everything is normal today at the diner, I should have a little bit of time once I get home to see Yara before Delilah gets back. That is of course unless she rushed home in a bad mood to pout, but let’s hope that didn’t happen.

Thankfully, her car isn’t in the driveway when I pull in, so I quickly rush up to the apartment and knock.

“Yara? Yara, it’s Lyle, can I come in?” No answer. I check the lock – it’s open, so I go open the door and go inside to find myself in an empty apartment. “Shit.”

It looks like neither Yara nor Delilah has made it back from work yet. Somehow I, with my fake working-late story, made it back before either of them, even with stopping off to see Jim at his place.

Rather than going inside the house or waiting outside, I decide to just take a seat at the foot of the bed and wait for her. If Delilah comes home first, so what? I’m not worried about getting her upset anymore. This is my house, my garage, and my studio apartment that I built. If she wants to snap at me and question me as to why I was up here, well, I’ll just tell her the truth. I’ve had enough of this being-held-hostage shit. Yara must have felt like a hostage back at her home with her emotionally-abusive father and she found a way out.

I wish I could have been there for her earlier. I wish I could have made all of that go away. Someone as beautiful as her, someone with such a wonderful spirit should have never had to go through such terrible pains as she did.

The sound of the bathroom door opening causes me to turn my head, and when I do, I see Yara emerge, towel wrapped around her hair, but otherwise completely naked.

She yelps when she sees me, and though I want to avert my eyes for politeness’s sake, I’m completely unable to.

“Jesus, Lyle, what are you doing here!?” she blurts out.

Her body just does not quit. Her tits are absolutely flawless, her waist is narrow and just asking for my hands to be firmly latched around it, and her thighs meet at a mouth-watering crux, a perfectly bare pink slit just begging for my tongue.

She backs up and hides herself behind the corner of the doorframe, but it’s too late. I’ve seen everything, and my cock is already pumped full of blood and solid beneath my work pants.

“I was waiting for you to get home from work,” I reply. “I didn’t realize you’d already gotten back.”

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