I’d see campers on Sunday during coffee hour, a Methodist institution specified on the Wittenberg Door. Nobody wonders if the Parish Nurse might her...elf want coffee. My first one was Owen Krebs, 14.I knew Owen as always at the head of the potluck line, hardly a sin, though some older members might think so. You could hear him actually singing in youth chorus, not just mouthing, so that was a plus. As tall as me, but that didn’t prove much. All in all, a junior Methodist.“This’ll just take a. Oh God. Oh God," Ashley said.Then I realized she wasn't doing it by herself.And for whatever reason, I still didn't just walk into the room. I stood there outside.And then a thought hit me. As fucking sick as it was, I wanted to see what was going on. I walked back down the hallway and I headed through my daughter's room. I knew that my daughter Madison and her sister Ashley shared a bathroom. Yes. I know what you're thinking. That's sick as fucking hell. And it is. But I could not just walk. There on the bed was Helen, naked with all three house girls. They were naked also as they almost always were. Two were sucking on and rubbing Helens tits while the third licked her pussy. Horace had not seen his daughter naked for many years. He stood in the doorway and watched, admiring what a nice body she was getting and how beautiful she was and how she was enjoying having her newly formed sexual desires satisfied. They did not notice him there. After several minutes, Helen started moaning. It wasn’t even noon yet. Our girls cleaned up our faces, then their own.I think she saw me fixing my ‘problem,’ but I needed to not be poking straight out, when we return the daughters to their crazy Irish father.Our cohorts in the back gathered up the trash. Something that looked like a series of garage doors opened, and as I drove through, Charles threw the trash into a very large containerIt had been a very nice place for a movie, kiss, and a poke.Pulling up to the house, there were ten.