A sense of deja vu hit me. Then confusion. What made me think I'd seen my mother giving head before? And if I had, wouldn't I remember it? Wouldn't a ...emory like that be seared into my memory, instead of bubbling up to the surface out of nowhere, and feeling distant and vague even after it came to me? The camera panned out and I realized who the lucky man was. It was her now deceased father, looking a good deal younger himself. Grandpa Dick had apparently been quite handsome and very fit, even. But there was something carnal about this situation that made me pump my fingers in and out of my pussy hard and fast. But what alarmed me most with this situation was that, even though I was finger fucking myself wildly, I could not feel that growing rush inside of me that I usually do when I masturbate. I don't know if it was the fact that I was being watched by Erica or the fear of someone walking in on me but, no matter how hard I played with myself, I could not get myself off. Erica must. I excused myself to go to the bathroom and on my return I noticed Derek had his hand on Kris’s leg, very high on her leg. I also noticed her blouse had another button undone. Now she always liked to show a lot of cleavage, but this was a lot of tit.Derek had a bag from the boutique with him and asked if Kris would mind modeling the outfit he bought for his wife to see if he liked it. Much to my surprise Kris said yes, she would be happy to. Maybe it was the three or four drinks, or this. ‘Because she’s my sister. My SISTER. Get it? Foster sister or not, she’s my sister, I love her like my sister and she loves me like her brother – so fucking each other would be as wrong as you fucking your own sister.’ ‘I don’t have a sister,’ Jarrod told him. ‘Fine: it’s as wrong as fucking your mother, then.’ ‘That is wrong,’ Brad chuckled. ‘That’s very wrong.’ ‘Shut up, man,’ Jarrod told Brad – he could foresee what was coming next. ‘And I fucked his mum last night, and that was pretty wrong.