We were eighteen, and these were days of cutting class and going back to our parents’ empty houses to fuck in the simple, clean manner of b**sts. S...e was so innocent and direct, simply hungering to be fucked, with no pretense or practice. She was so happy to just lie back and be stuffed full of my cock, and it was easy and free of meaning. But then, we grew up. She met a guy, then another guy, then her husband. She had k**s, built a life, drifted off. I did the same - a career, a different. Once the shower was good and going, daddy made his way back over to me. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me hard on the lips. My heart beat just as fast this time as it did the first time he kissed me. “I forgot to tell you how sexy you look in this,” he informed me, holding me back slightly to examine my breasts. “It was Mommy’s,” I told him, hanging my head down. “I know,” he smiled, running his hands down the sides of the silky fabric. “But you want to know something?” “What?” I. More

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