I fucked a lot of those girls. And sometimes even their mothers. And not as often as I liked their grandmothers. Mum came back home alone. Always. Dru...k and frustrated. I often had to nurse her hangover the next day. Or carry her drunk body into her bed. Once she moaned something barely hear able: “If you weren’t my son. If you only weren’t my son...”Yes, in that point in time we where still influenced, or better said controlled by the laws our society put on our shoulders: You don’t fuck your. I was just about to give up and go to bed for a wank when I heard someone come in. I looked over my shoulder and saw Bill, he’d lost his jacket and tie and had his shirt unbuttoned revealing his hairy chest, he looked nearly as pissed as I did.He laughed and said he thought I’d gone to bed, then comes and stands next to me, fishing out his cock from his trousers and peeing strongly into the urinal. Force of habit makes me glance down to check him out. His cock is a bit longer than mine, with a. More

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