Please don't say anything,” I pleaded desperately. From her eyes I could tell that she was unmoved by my apology, and I seriously believed myself to...be in deep trouble.“So, you're, like, in love with my feet or something?” she asked, ignoring my plea and staring downwards intently. Her attitude was confusing and I found it unreadable. She was sort of smirking at me, but I couldn’t be sure how angry she was. There seemed to be a hint of amusement in her tone but I didn't want to risk anything at. I started thrusting in and out pumping away in his mouth. My “son” was struggling to breath as I really went to town, every few thrusts went all the way down his throat and made him choke and cough up white stringy spit. I could feel it running down my balls and onto the carpet in his parent’s lounge. Despite his struggling to breath he would not give up, his determination to do what ever his “dad” wanted was exceptional.After about 10 minutes of this I stopped. I asked him where his mother sat. More

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