’ Peter felt that being hung over and nauseous was the proper state to tell me more about his family. ‘My father was a bloody drunk and petty tyr...nt. He left when I was four and good riddance. Bitter metallic yellow fear is all I remember of him. Mom screaming and I was too small to help. When he disappeared it was much better, but still pretty shitty. We never had any money, I had to do the cooking if I wanted to eat anything else than sandwiches. Mom was mostly in bed. I can see now she was. He shifted again, so I could release the other one, too. Now, when he straightened he was between my legs, my knees were up, near his hips, his cock was touching my pubic hair, my cunt lips were partly open because - well - I was spread out for him. "No, don't stop." I whispered, to him, to me, and for Tom. He said "Show me what you want - show me exactly what your husband wants you to do. Show me what you think would turn him on." What an exciting, perverted idea. I reached for his cock. There. More

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