Even our lunches were full of her exclamations and loud groans of approval for the food she had prepared. She had a northern French accent and the...edge of her vowels lilted, sometimes with a throaty sound, and other times with emphasis, dragging them out. It was beautiful. Mom worked hard at overcoming her accent, but Tante Belle embraced hers. Often, my Aunt would ask things like, "How you say…?" And make hand gestures or mime an action. She would scratch at the dirt and pretend to. She gasped as she shoved two fingers into her tight hole, pumping fast."I got something a lot better than your fingers to shove in there, sweetness," I purred. "Why don't you come on over here and me and you can have a nice time."Her hand pumped faster, her breath coming faster and faster. She pinched at her nipple, then pulled her piercing, painfully stretching her tit out. She moaned and shuddered, then let go, her small tit snapping back.My cock was so hard. I pulled it out of my orange. I'm nowhere near that kind of life. I'm a security guard who works in the gatehouse at a truck depot. I spend twelve hours a day signing trucks and cars in and out. That was where I met Kirsty, the daughter of the site manager. She was eighteen when we first met bringing in her father's dinner for him made by his stereotypical trophy wife. Unlike her parents who seemed trapped in an upper middle class life of dull parties where you only invite clients Kirsty was quite down to Earth. She was a. After Don helped with a bath, he tucked her in with a story as Anne waited downstairs. She wanted to leave but didn’t want to just walk out after dinner. ‘You could have come up.’ Don said as he came down the stairs. He saw a sadness flash across her face for an instant and then it was gone. ‘Thank you but no, I was okay right here.’ She answered rising from the couch and stepping to the middle of the room. ‘I should go but I wanted to thank you for dinner, it was actually very good.’ Don.