“Come inside me, daddy … Show me how much I turn you on. Get there … Get there … Yes, pour it into me. Give me that love.”Craig is grimacing...and grunting, wall-eyed, teeth clenched in a portcullis of what I take to be exquisite agony while he unloads into my pussy.Finally he collapses on top of me, spent, his erection dwindling. Then we’re snogging again, locked at the mouth as our tongues explore.“Merry Christmas, Miss Bloom,” the man says as he rolls away. He lies next to me, an arm over his. When I asked what the trouble was I was told, "It's just a touch of bronchitis." I should have known I was being fobbed off. During that one visit home I noticed that father's cough had got even worse and he had lost weight and the slightest physical effort seemed to exhaust him, and he had always been a physically well set up man and very active. Despite this I still didn't realise just how sick he was, but that seemed to be the way in our family, we never made much of sickness, but if it was. More

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