It was an old country house, transformed into a hotel, set deep in thewoods with a wide gravel drive and a sense of history behind its manywindows, as...though great people had walked past them and big decisionsmade there. Now it was a little faded, the carpet in the reception wasworn and the pictures dulled but the receptionist was attractive, in abusinesslike manner, in a crisp blouse and neat plait. She smiled warmlyas I entered with my bag."Mr Fisher?" she said in a honeyed voice. She was my. His thrusts were impatient and I knew my son did not want a slow patience blow job. His hands grasped my hair, where it was pulled back into a single ponytail and thrust himself mercilessly past my lips. My face was bouncing against his flat midriff, his pubic hair tickling my lips and my saliva dripping off my own chin.This was not how I enjoyed sucking a cock - but this is what David wanted so I endured his use of my mouth. There was pleasure even in being used - my son loved and desired me. More

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