"Father!" Mom cried.Dad looked up, first at Mom, then me, then back to Mom, then back into his book. "A duet, I believe, if my memory serves me right,... he said.Mom and I looked at each other, mouths open, then at Dad, shocked by this indisputable evidence that he was actually aware of what happened around him. "You'd both better get to it, I imagine, and leave a man to read in peace," he said, nose still buried between the pages.Mom and I looked at each other again and she crooked her head at. The ferry docked at a pier lit like a Disney movie with thousands of small colored light bulbs strung along our path to the taxi area, where we piled into a car that barely made it in time to the train station. Then we were on a half empty train going in the opposite direction from everyone else, headed for Manhattan.On the train I sat in a seat facing Martha and Ronnie. Martha bargained with Ronnie for the space by the window, and Ronnie finally gave up, sitting in the aisle position at a. That was done by her father, or perhaps his family. They were rather well off.I wasn't destitute, of course. I was a fifty year old, full professor of English at my university. My wife, Erica, is an instructor in the same department.But I was certain now that Emma was actually my daughter. Yes, she was the fruit of a one time ribald meeting with her mother. My new wife Erica. I didn't remember it, but it must be so. It must be. It made my lusting for her even more wrong. But, my god, it seemed. The blond rubbed some KY on my ass, surprising me. He worked it into my fuck hole with his finger, deeper and deeper, then out. He put a little more jelly on and gently worked his finger in again, coating my anus with jelly. Out again, more jelly, then two fingers. Gently. Sweetly. Two wonderful fingers tight in my ass. A beautiful stretch, just a little pain as his plunged them up to the last knuckle. I wanted his cock, and I got it. First his head finding my anus, then pressing gently. I.