"Mom, and your blouse please." I heard him say.I froze asking myself if I should. What if we get caught? What if my daughter comes down, what if she s...es me like this, in my panties and bra or maybe even completely naked? I couldn't breathe, the thought of my daughter looking at me... at my tits... at my ass was drowning my senses, making me... hot.Oh God... what was I turning into? How could I think like that about my daughter? I looked down and saw that I already unbuttoned my blouse. Slowly,. It featured about any comfort you could possibly cram into a 2,5 x 6 m space in an old Bedford originally build for transporting horses. It was one of those old flat nosed trucks from the early sixties, but it had a new engine, breaks, gearbox and steering. I was a photographer working for different tourist boards and that summer I was working in Scotland. The nice thing about the work was that it gave me the right to park anywhere that for the common crowd meant no overnight parking. That. I was shocked. I couldn't think of any reason for her to get into an ice cream truck. I went home and unpacked while I waited for her to return. When she came in she looked at me nervously and I could tell she'd done something wrong.She came over and tried to kiss me, but I pulled away from her. I still hadn't decided what to do yet. The first thing in my head was to file for a divorce first thing in the morning. I rejected that because; A I didn't have any concrete proof. And B in our state,. Besides, thinking about this beautiful woman having sex with me and wanting me to intentionally get her pregnant, was beginning to sound more and more erotic. ‘Sunday, how about Sunday?’ I suggested. ‘Yes, that will be good,’ she confirmed, ‘Shall we meet in the coffee shop at the motel, it is a Little Chef, I think …. Say about two-thirty?’ I agreed and we said our goodbyes and I let her hang up before putting the receiver down, sitting back and lighting a cigarette. Sunday was a good day.
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