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“Tell me that you want me to finger your wet cunt,” he whispered. I could almost feel Steven smiling in the shadows, knowing how uncomfortable tha... would make me feel. I was a well-spoken young lady even then; I never swore, not even in anger. My father had been a lawyer and I’d spent most of my younger years in private education. I never, ever used that word. The C-word. I shuffled on the balls of my feet uneasily. My heart was racing, I wanted him to have me more than anything. Steven's eyes. "You dress nicely, but not too trendy; you look out for the little guy; you don't follow other people's rules unless they make sense to you; you are able to laugh at yourself and suppress the urge to be cruel to others. But first and foremost: confidence. You have it! Nothing and no one stands in your way save your own conscience."Of course, at time, as I lay there choking for air and thrashing about, the words were just a blur of sounds. But the subconscious mind hears and remembers; it. I tipped some of it over my breasts and watched it flow down between my cleavage, dad took the jug back and had a good drink out of it tipping the rest over mum who was now lying on her back, knees bent and legs wide open showing us all her long pussy lips and pink insides which were really wet and glistening with my juices, she had a very nice looking cunt for an older lady, one which says to anyone who is looking at it come and suck this, Dad tipped the remaining juice in the jug over her. He said all were packed and there were none outside. While i was bent over him fixing his bed-sheet, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me onto him. As i lost my balance and fell on top of him, he whispered in my ear that he desperately needed some warmth. Feeling his cold body against mine and fearing that his shivering might worsen his breathing, i hugged his body and both of us were lying on the bed under the sheet with our bodies embraced in a tight hug. I could feel the heat.
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