"What's that mean?" I demanded."Nothing sweetie," he replied merrily, as he spread our towels under the umbrella he had just raised. "Make sure you pu... on lots of sunblock Sammi," he added as he pulled his tee shirt over his head and then lowered his hands to his shorts.Oh shit, I'm going to see my Father naked, I told myself, as I quickly turned away, only to find myself staring at two flapping penises that were walking towards me. "Oh God," I moaned, turning back to Dad just in time to see. Tears blurred his vision as he drove down the street. ‘You’re just like your father, ‘ Coach had said. Was he just like his father? He’d just seen his father fucking Miss Conklin and Lisa Dutille. He was upset but wasn’t sure why. Why did it upset him that his father was doing exactly what he, Rick, was doing? And why was he angry at the Coach for saying he was exactly like his father? He pulled to the side of the road and stopped. He wasn’t sure where he was. He sat there, crying. After what. He doesn’t even get to ‘act big’ for it for the media. YOUR task is to let him know he’s going to do it, because the language of Shit is about the only one I don’t know, so I’ll let you two discuss it. And if you have the tiniest issue with it, you’ve no doubt already heard about my big shopping spree last night.” There was a pause. “I’m glad we understand each other.”She stood up, put out her cigarette on the desk, dropped the receiver, and headed for the patio door. She looked at the fucker. I tell you not to stop masturbating and carry on stimulating your clitoris. All the time telling you that your pussy tastes beautiful. Your breathing gets heavier as you build up to an orgasm. "Lick my clit faster." you say. All of a sudden you stop masturbating as an orgasm rips through your body flooding my mouth with your sweet juices. I lie there and swallow every drop of your pussy juice. You rest for a while then stand up and reach for the chocolate sauce and whipped cream. "Your turn.