It’s only been the last couple of times we’ve been out. And he rubs himself against me, and I can feel, you know, his ... his ... you know, his di...k against me.”“His hardon?” asked Lauren. Heather simply blushed and nodded in agreement.Lauren smiled. “Well, it sounds like you two are moving along. Has he gotten his hands inside your clothing yet?”“Uh, no, but he’s tried. I’ve made him stop, but it was really hard the last time. I really wanted him to continue,” admitted Heather.Lauren nodded in. I can feel Dads dick get harder in my mouth, his moans now coming quicker and louder. I guess he is approaching his own orgasm. I keep sucking, my head going up and down faster. I really wanted his cum.Dad grabs my hair at the back of my head and pulls my head towards him while he thrusts his dick down my throat, past my gag reflex and shoots his cum straight down my throat and into my stomach.When he fired his first shot down my throat I had a orgasm of my own and I think I even squirted.When. Seven days, and what am I doing? Sitting here, getting soused on cheap wine, and watching the idiot box. Jeez, I might as well take a shower.She went to the bathroom and stripped. The full-length mirror on the bathroom door caught her eye."Well, Mrs. Terner," she spoke to her reflection. "We're twenty-three, been married for a year. How are we holding up?"She examined herself in the mirror.Her sandy brown hair fell in wispy waves past her shoulders. Her hazel eyes had a stormy look to them. Her. At eighteen, full of raging hormones, I did not look long at beautiful blondes for fear of staring. Small and slight, barely five feet three inches tall and not more than 90 pounds, I felt all full of gawky, awkward insecurities and doubts. My own dark blond hair, shaggy now after six weeks without a haircut seemed constantly in rebellion. Puberty had finally arrived for me and my face threatened mutiny with pimple militia mustering just under the skin. Sometimes I hated myself but just then I.