Then, summer before last, I'd gone to our fence to ask if she'd be available to sit that evening. When I looked through the space between the planks, ...o see if she were there, before calling out, I was dumb-founded to see her sprawled on the grass, on her back, with her shorts and panties holding her ankles together, and her knees pulled up and spread as wide as possible. Her father, John, was on his knees, straddling her head, his cock dangling in her face, and his face buried in her pussy. As. My mind went back to last night in the toilet as I sniffed those panties and masturbated while the wife snored away, how I lost control as the fragrance of pussy, piss and asshole engulfed me, how I stuck out my tongue and licked the juices off the crotch even cleaning the brown streak that was so pungent the taste came back just now. Her taste, not Casey’s, her pussy, her asshole, my cock was like steel in my pants. ‘C’mon, I don’t have all day,’ I showed her into the stock room, my face. More

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