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F dekhchi.hotath dada dada bolte bolte kokhon dekhi mouli hajir. mai ghoree mouse dhore r b.f ta off korte parini.o dekhei chup hoye lojjai chole gelo...ami kichu por or kache gelam.kharap lagchilo tao gelamBollam–agulo tomar ma k bolona.–tumi vable ki kore j bolbo..–na jodi bolo….–tai?r ki ki mone hoi tomar? ami tokhon necar ghore thakleo bujhchilam atai proposer moka dekho onek din dhore vabchilam j tomak bolbo tomak dekhte darun lage.ami tomak valobese felechi. I Love you.tumi ki kau k valo. ‘Hi, Daddy,’ they chorused. ‘Don’t call me that,’ I rasped. ‘I’m not your father.’ I turned around to leave. I didn’t want to be in the same room with them. ‘Come back here and sit down,’ Dad snapped. ‘We have things to discuss.’ Despite not having lived under their roof for more than 20 years, I obeyed. He still had that air of authority about him that parents seem to have even with their adult children. I avoided making eye contact with the girls. I know I still thought of them as girls but. "Now lay your head back as I finger fuck your cunt with one hand as I play with your clit with the other. Do not make a sound." He then pressed two fingers in my cunt as the other hand fingered my clit. It did not take long to make me cum. "Yes, baby, just enjoy my hands on your pussy." He fingered me and kept me cumming for a long time. He watched his hands fuck my cunt and finger my clit. Then he told me "turn on your hip with your ass to me. I am going to slip my cock in your cunt and fuck. My half-sister gasped beneath me. Her body bucked, pressing her stomach tight against mine. Her silky, warm flesh caressed me as her eyes squeezed shut.Then she screamed in rapture.“Yes, yes, bathe my face!” moaned Mom. “Oh, Father, I made one cum.”“Now make the other!” Daddy growled, his voice full of passion. The rhythmic slap grew faster as he fucked Mom as hard as he could, turned on by making her eat our cunts. His daughter’s cunts.Mom’s tongue drove into my cunt again. She stimulated me..

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We were finishing our third bottle ofBill's best Moselle, and feeling increasingly mellow. I could evenfeel a certain stiffness beginning again down ...elow. "Show me!" Isaid. She looked at me. "I already have," she said. "Now I'll dobetter than that. I'll fix it so you know how it feels from theinside out, the way a writer should." She was thoughtful for amoment. "You need something on that face of yours anyhow, whereit's all irritated. Though your puffy lips do look kissable justas. “I’m a writer too, so I was curious.”“No, it’s not a journal. Are you always so nosey?” I asked, wanting to rev the conversation up a notch.“No, not always,” he said. He closed his book, took a sip of his coffee, looking at me over the edge of his cup. “But I liked seeing your intensity. You looked so passionate when you were writing.”“”Really, you noticed that,” I responded, looking into his eyes, even more curious about him. “So you’re a writer. What do you write?” I asked.“Mostly poetry, but. More

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