Then, at the top, I felt her vagina relax and open a bit as she glided down feeling so wet and warm and smooth, then up again, nice and tight and snug... just over and over. She was terrific, young, sexy, hot. "It's nice to keep things in the family, isn't it, Uncle Zach?" she asked saucily as she twisted her hips around making me feel so good. She was surely well-schooled in how to make a man feel good. I looked and her mother was sitting across the room, her feet up on the chair seat, both. Bobby was right. It was probably just an inadvertent Freudian slip. She'd been thinking about banging him and the words slipped out and she turned it, with his help, into a joke. I couldn't blame her for her fantasies.I was 40. She was 38. We'd only been married eight years. I'd been around. Hell, one of the reasons for getting into television was that, although I might not get the variety that singers and rock stars enjoyed, male TV types still got a fairly high female traffic count. I'd gone. More

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