Was she selling something? She said, "No, I'm not selling anything." She said that I had ordered her and she was there to do my bidding.I was speechle...s. She asked if I would like another glass of lemonade. I replied with an "uh, huh". Then I watched as she walked slowly away, every fiber in her body crying out SEXY. I was smitten.I decided whatever the situation; I would play along for awhile. What did I have to lose?As I was pondering about theses events, I thought, what if she would come. She hoped in Franks case the myths might turn out to be true. Not only was Frank old enough to be her father, he could well turn out to become her father if her mother felt that way inclined, then again maybe he wouldn’t.She entered the lounge and saw Frank stretched out in a chair toasting his feet in front of the fire. He looked up as she entered and she caught her breath when she saw real hair on his chest through his half unbuttoned pyjama top, little rosettes of curls around his left. Then I settled to a steadier rhythm. I had achieved what I wanted. Fucking my own mother. My cock was inside her vagina and I am fucking her. I am fucking the same cunt my father has used to quench his lust and flooded it with his sperm to create me. I finally managed to spread the same legs my father has spread on the same bed. Finally I managed to make the same woman my dad made as woman of the house. I am squeezing the same breasts my dad squeezed and my mother used to feed me as a baby. I. Maybe it was the smell of other people's defecating and the smell of strong bleach, or perhaps it was the simple fact that a change in the law had made what happened in these toilets, technically, no longer i*****l and the thrill that accompanied it, seem somewhat out of date. Needless to say, this scene was getting old, pretty quick.An older guy, somewhere in his 70's, stood beside me, slapping his semi-erect cock against his big gnarly old hands, smiling over to me. I looked over to him and.