Fuck, it hurt.“Dad? Dad? Can you talk?”Cramps finally eased. I rolled onto my back, sweating. Mismatched eyes peered down at me, expression worrie..., dark hair a mess.“Dad?”Breaths slowly became deeper, pain fading to a gut-clenching ache. When I could breathe, I asked, “Why did you have to practice your self-defense skills on me?”Sia grinned in relief. “You shouldn’t have poked me so much. I told you to stop.”“But, attempted castration?” I asked, giving her a weak smile.“Sorry.”Eventually I. Like the proverbial elephant on the table there was absolutely no way they could politely ignore the changes that were happening. By dinner time there was simply no doubt that her son was in desperate need of a bra when he sheepishly came out of the bedroom."Brent! What's happening to you?" Nothing!" he growled, or would have if his voice were not changing so radically. No matter what was happening to his body his spirit was that of a rebellious young man who knew he couldn't give an inch. As the bus slowly made its way along the streets toward her house she allowed her mind to recall what had just happened to her backstage. Maybe she had always secretly preferred girls to boys and it took Miss Carstairs to bring it out.Alone in her room that evening, she thought about Marsha's hot soft lips on hers as her tongue explored her mouth and it got her hot. She dug out her vibrator and skilfully guided it in and out of her dripping pussy as she recalled Marsha's burning kisses. She had. Just fuck me.” She lunged forward and unzipped my fly, liberating my erect member, which shot up as soon as she pulled back the elastic of my briefs. This story, it was playing with my mind—real? imaginary? It was a torment and an inebriating aphrodisiac together. Emily knows me well enough to find exactly those things that will drive me wild, and at this moment, with her mouth on my cock, I didn’t care about reality, illusion, fiction, reality... Soon we had our clothes off and she was on.
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