“Son, what was the word Peter’s father used?”“Fuck,” he almost yelled.“And how did he use it?” I asked.“Fuck me,” he answered.“Is ...hat what you want me to do?” I asked quietly.“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes, fuck me father.”Are you sure, son? It will hurt.”“Yes, I’m sure. Fuck me.”I moved up between his legs and holding them apart by his ankles, I positioned my cock head at his opening. I pushed a little until just my head was inside him then stopped, waiting for him to get used to me being inside. Instead, he gauged an appealing brightness and liveliness, behind which burned piercing expectation. Coral’s mouth was small, her lower lip fuller than the top. He bet her lips would be sweetly responsive slivers to an attentive man. Especially one with thick lips such as his own. Several times his gaze lingered longer than both knew necessary and she blushed lightly, her mouth’s corners twisting into intricate curlicues. In spite of himself he met Coral’s smile. A generally northwestern blaze. More

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