Daddy had him down on his knees, sucking his cock. His pubes had smelled like diesel. He’d held him down with one hand, simply using his mouth while...he called him dick sucking sissy and nancy-boy and cock whore. When he’d come, it seemed never-ending, like he’d pumped a gallon of jizz down his throat before slapping his still hard cock against Blanket’s face.Blanket had a faraway look on his face while he told us about what happened afterwards. Daddy’d patted him on the head and told him he was. My daughter. My lover. That’s the reality.Noticing my thoughtful expression, my daughter Poornima draws up against me, placing her elbows on my chest and resting her beautiful face on her palms. She nibbles on my nose for a couple of seconds, before dropping her hands to her sides and downing her face into my chest.”What are you thinking, Dad?”I kiss her forehead lovingly. The forehead that I had kissed many times as a father – the forehead that now belonged to me, her ‘husband.'”If someone had. I wasn't really positive that I was rust proof. I smiled at that thought, the 6 million dollar bucket of rust.I was dressed in jeans, a tee, and a baggy sweat shirt over the tee. The sweat shirt was to hide the .38 riding in the upside down shoulder rig. Since I had driven back and forth all Saturday afternoon, I planned to stay in the model home all afternoon. Sylvia had run a small advertisement in the twice weekly Aster newspaper, so we would likely get some walk in traffic.As I expected I. Many of her styles of glasses were of the half-round or half-moon type in silver of gold and some were larger silver ovals, but they all had a well made neck chain as beading was Aunt Gerts other hobby.Gert's style of dressing is great, a skirt and blouse with low pumps in black patent, some with bows or sometimes a pair of 'Spectators' which are patent black at the toes and heels and white leather between, rather dressy.It was quite nice for me to watch Gert move around and I suppose I looked.
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