I reached down again and dipped my finger into the hole of his penis that was still dripping with his white hot come."D-don't," he tried to say as ste...nly as he could. But I didn't remove my finger. Instead, I rolled my finger around the tip of his cock, making my finger wet in the process."S-stop," he said even more weakly. "P-please stop. I'm," he paused, "your father."I placed the fingers of my other hand under his whiskered chin and made him look at me. I leaned my head closer to his and. Originally, there was a zone of numbness around it, about an inch wide, but as time went on, that zone narrowed, and now, only the scar itself is still insensitive. Still, I kiss it anytime I am in the vicinity, as it speaks to me of her strength, and what a mother undertakes for her children. My wife has scars and bruises all over her legs. She is the mother of three boys, and with that comes football, baseball, soccer, and Boy Scouts. She was a swimmer herself, and could not have cared less. Gus was shorter and wider than most and looked like he was always trying to pick a fight. He swaggered when he walked and expected other men to get out of his way. They got to arguing a bit, but then Gus agreed to whatever it was Billy wanted, and Beckwith yelled, "Let's go," and waved us toward the river. I told him I had counted thirty-seven so I guess there was about twenty-five of us in Beckwith's "army." Didn't seem like very many out there in the dark.Pretty soon we had gravel and. Unfortunately, a sudden wave of pleasure swept over me and I began to wriggle and shudder as well. Damn random orgasms. ***** Chrissie and I regained our senses with a gasp, still clenched in each other’s arms. We blushed simultaneously, then scrambled apart. Michael was standing there. ‘Ah, ladies, could you please control your friends? They’re distracting my crew,’ he said. Chrissie and I nodded, straightening our clothes as surreptitiously as possible. ‘Yeah, yeah, we’re on it,’ said.