“He was a hard worker. Of course, it wasn’t always like that.” That was news to me. I’d only known a father who worked long hard hours every d...y of his life.“What do you mean?”“Well...” she lowered her voice and glanced around the room conspiratorially, “when we came to America, we were hippies. We never intended to work a day in our lives.”“Mom! You’re kidding!”“No, it’s true. You should know these things now that you’re grown up.” Grown up? I was 43. It seemed like I could have been told. My favourite position being the position I had seen mum in before Carl had rammed his hard cock into her. On my knees, forehead on the bed, my small tits hanging and available to my left hand, my right hand jammed into my open lips. Like Mum, I'd shaved my sex completely, leaving only a neat triangle of hair pointing down to my full-time pre-occupation, my pussy.Now once again, I was watching as someone else was enjoying some sex. Jamie pushed the duvet further down until it slid down her shins. More

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