It became a regular gig, once a week at the Hollins, parents sizing up the future son-in-law (we were that serious). We'd cook-out, Mr. Hollins, immaculate in slacks, a button-down shirt, and loafers, manning the grill while I played in the pool, fooling around with Jennie and Mrs. Hollins in their skimpy and complementary (if not matching) swimsuits. Sometimes we'd go out for dinner and Jennie and Mrs. Hollins would show off their toned bodies in clothes selected for just that purpose. Or maybe we'd sit in front of the telly, catch a movie or a game.
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On a Friday afternoon, Jennie and I rendezvoused on campus, listened to some bands, Jennie texted her mother, let her know all was okay, we went to my place, f****d like bunnies.
The next morning, after coffee, we did it again. ……
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