My father did his best, but it wasn't the same. My teenage years were hell. With few friends and struggles at school, I saw my father sink further and...further into depression and alcoholism. By the time I was fifteen, I was running the house by myself.I was interested in my father's work. He was a fixer. He could repair almost anything if he could understand it and was sober. It was interesting for me to watch him work on appliances, cars, farm equipment — almost anything mechanical. He was. It didn't!Jeff pushed me away for a moment so he could get up from the couch and assume a standing position in front of his kneeling sissy.I took the opportunity to shrug off my cardigan and noticed that my skirt had ridden up my thighs, exposing my stocking tops and panties.I greedily reached for his cock, now glistening with my saliva and licked all along the shaft and around the head, before encapsulating it within my mouth once more.In the standing position, he now had the freedom to thrust. More

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