“In our underthings, silly. The otters won’t care.”I guess I was too surprised to respond, as before I could come up with an excuse, she was in ...er brassiere and underpants, and I’d really no choice but to strip to my skivvies and in we waded.“We’re on a whaling ship,” her idea, “and I’m Ishmael up in the crows-nest,” setting me down where it was still shallow and hopping on my lap as in the car. “There she blows!” pulling my hands around her to prevent her from falling.After we’d harpooned. As part of our therapy, we were required to occasionally dress in partial, or total drag during the weekends, while we serviced the Jones men, and occasionally a few of their buddies. We often did this sexual service in front of our wives, and Mrs. Jones. The women always seem to get a kick out of seeing us take care of the men.And always at such times, dad and I were the "oral clean up maids" for the slimy dicks and over flowing gloppy cunts that resulted from all the fucking that occurred. More

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