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Table of contents
- Elements of Criticism, vol. 2 - Online Library of Liberty
- Masturbation
- Connect with the Author
- Texte intégral
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My head was bursting, and I saw stars on the back of my eyelids as I spurted my teeming fluid inside my sixteen-year-old daughter's womb.
Elements of Criticism, vol. 2 - Online Library of Liberty
It helped make them less uncomfortable and more regular. I was soon finished, and my cock quickly softened and went flaccid. It slipped out as I rolled to her side; I was glad I thought of putting a towel underneath her as we didn't want to sleep in a messy bed—not that I thought we would get much sleep tonight. You are a loving daughter, a very intelligent young woman, and now my beautiful lover.
She smiled and said, "You're right. I'm your lover. I hadn't thought of that. I'm my Dad's lover. I put my arm around her, and she snuggled up to my chest. A few moments later she was snoring lightly. She woke me a few more times in the night to have sex. Fortunately, I didn't spurt a whole lot, and by morning she declared that no sex for a few days as she was sore. I breathed a sigh of relief. We arrived in Venice a few minutes early the next day at the Santa Lucia station. I hailed a cab and within twenty minutes were deposited at the Baglioni Hotel Luna, a five-star luxury hotel.
The next few days were interesting as all Sally wanted to do, was see the sights as long as it didn't involve too much walking. The third day saw her wanting sex again, and for the next week, we made love every night. Back home in St. John's Wood, it was evident to both Sally and I that we couldn't continue being lovers as my friends knew she was my daughter. We decided to sell up, and leave England and move to the South of France.
We purchased a villa near the town of Toulouse where we lived as man and wife.
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When Sally turned twenty, she had our baby, a healthy six pound-three ounce girl who we named Victoria Lucia. The Mysterious Sisters Mf 14, Mg 12, 1st, ped, con, oral, ws mild.
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Jonathan Gates achieves his lifelong dream to live on the lake. Two sisters provide an aging man with his last sexual experience. Word Count: 5, Date Published: August 19 Jonathan Gates, Jon to his younger sister Allison and his rapidly depleting circle of elderly friends, moved into a house on Lake Norman. Although it was over twenty-five hundred square feet, it was considered small by the McMansions that surrounded the small cove on the northern end of the lake. He had sold his large home in Charlotte after Mary, his wife of fifty years, had died six months ago.
It had been his lifelong dream to live on the lake—something his late wife hated which is why they had never purchased a second home on the lake despite Jonathan's pleas. Despising packing moving and unpacking, he had hired a company to do everything. All he had to do was stand back and tell the team of six men where everything went. It was five o'clock on a warm, sunny July afternoon when the last of the stemware was removed from its protective bubble wrap and placed on the glass shelf in the glass-fronted wall cabinet.
Jonathan handed the foreman an envelope with six crisp brand-new one hundred dollar bills inside.
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The foreman looked inside and said, "Thank you, that's very generous of you, Mr. With that, the foreman and his crew of five left. Jonathan looked 'round his kitchen with its granite work surfaces, the Wolf six burner gas cooktop, the double wall ovens, and the large Sub-Zero combination fridge-freezer. A couple of chunks of ice, the shape of a thick half-slices of lemon, dropped from the chute into the glass with a tinkle. A few minutes later, having poured three fingers of Jim Beam Black label into the glass now being chilled by the ice, he carried it outside onto the large, covered wrap-around porch that overlooked the lake and sat down on an Adirondack chair.
He took a sip of the fifteen-year-old bourbon and sighed. Talking to himself had been something he'd been doing lately.
Texte intégral
He sat admiring the view. His house was at the end of the small cove, and he had a view out to the main body of water. Even though the cove had a multi-million dollar house on each side of his, his had the million-dollar view. Why someone hadn't snapped up his two-acre lot with its two-hundred-foot waterfront, razed the house and built two McMansions, he would never know. But as luck would have it, the house belonged to Joseph Cartwright, an old client and trusted friend, and he'd visited it many times.
When Jonathan heard that his old friend was moving to an assisted living facility, he immediately contacted him and asked if he was selling the house, to which he replied he had already put it in the hands of a local real estate brokerage. Jonathan contacted the agent and immediately put in a full-priced offer. The agent begged Joseph Cartwright not to accept the offer but to wait for more substantial above-asking offers that she knew would be coming.
He refused since he knew how much is old friend wanted to live on the lake.
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As Jonathan sat enjoying the late afternoon sun, he saw a young girl come out of the house to his left and walk down to the dock. She saw him and waved. He waved back. She ran around the shoreline and approached his porch. She wasn't just beautiful—she was stunning with raven-black hair and the most gorgeous pale-blue eyes he had ever seen. He figured she was eleven—maybe twelve years old, around five-one—perhaps five-two, slim with long slender legs.
She wore a simple flowery summer dress with a tightish bodice that buttoned down the front; the bodice emphasized her small breasts. She wore pink Keds sneakers, no socks.
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The girl stopped at the foot of the steps leading up to the deck, and said, "Hi, I'm Mara. What's your name? Why don't you come up on my porch where I can properly introduce myself.
Mara walked up the three wide steps and stood next to where Jonathan was sat. She proffered her hand. He took it, and while looking directly into her pale-blue eyes kissed each knuckle in turn. What a pretty name for a more than a pretty young lady.
Why don't you sit down on the porch swing. She gave him a shy smile. Jonathan caught a glimpse of Mara's white panties that caused his cock to twitch. Mara was moving back and forth a little. As she did so, the loose skirt of her dress got hitched up, and Jonathan was treated to the most sensual sight of Mara's plump vulva coddled in the crotch of her cotton panties squeezed between her slim thighs. And she made no attempt at pulling the hem of her dress back down—in fact, Jonathan thought she was deliberately letting him see her panties since she parted her legs a little exposing a one-inch wide strip of white fabric.
Jonathan now had a raging erection, the bulge of which was thankfully hidden from view by the relaxed nature of his shorts. For some reason, the twinkling in Joseph Cartwright's eye as he told him, "You're going to really enjoy living there," sprang into his memory.