On his way to do something horrible, John Lightson saw an old woman. She yelled to him from across the street. "Excuse me young man!"
John stopped.
"You have such an honest face. Could you help me with these bags?"
"Certainly," said John. He jogged across the street to help. He scooped up all four grocery bags and allowed the woman to lead him up the cement steps to the front door. Just inside, the woman thanked him and said that he could set them down. John smiled wide and honest. "Oh, let me take them into the kitchen for you."
"Could you?" she said, sighing and smiling.
John kicked off his shoes so he would not track dirt, and carried the bags into the kitchen. As he made his way through the antiseptic smell of the house he thought, look at me, I'm a good person, I should go home right now. He refused the five-dollar bill the woman offered, and talked himself into walking straight home. Home was a right turn at the bottom of the steps. I'm turning right and going home. He turned left.
He checked his watch. School would be out any minute and he was almost at the tree. He'd seen it a week before, the low branches right over the sidewalk, and could not get the thought out his mind. They would not be able to see my face.
John's breath grew shallow and quick. Color rushed to his face. His cock grew painfully hard. He was not wearing underwear. John quickly reached inside his pants to adjust himself straight up so no one would notice. It pleased him that his cock almost touched his belly button. That the head of it was full outside his pants and was only covered by his untucked shirt. He could feel the cool air caressing the head of his dick. His head was swimming.
I should leave. I should turn around and run home. Jesus, my wife thinks I'm looking for a job!
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