“You are my Pet, you are here to be spoiled and pampered. I will take care of you.” He worked his fingers through my hair kneading my scalp. It wa... such a good feeling. He used the sprayer again to rinse out the suds and then applied the conditioner and again worked it in massaging my scalp some more. I was becoming relaxed now. I think this going to be nice. After a long time of working the conditioner into my hair he rinsed again with the sprayer. He then told me to stand up. With the sprayer. I need to be in you every day.”“Oh fuck - I need you in me every day.”“Good boy.”“Does that mean I can stay?”“Yes, baby. You can say.”And then I plunged into my son’s clean, unlubed cunt. He cried out. I did, too. I guess that was our talk. I guess that was all that needed to be said.As I plowed him, railed him, bred him, he moaned and flexed, showing me his muscles, displaying his pride, being what he needed to be: His father’s slut-bottom son, born and raised to serve the cock that created. Colleen Judson died on the Atlantic crossing, giving birth to Julie.But Julie carried the flaming red hair, the green eyes, the light complexion with a sprinkling of freckles, and a strong willed, Irish temper. She remained pretty much the tomboy, preferring men's pants, shirts, and boots to more feminine attire. Such clothing was much better suited to her long trips on the Mississippi with her captain and pilot father, Sean, than they were in Naw'lins society. She could most often be found in. Why shouldn’t he be like his father in that respect, she thought to herself, for that matter as horny outdoors as both his parents, truth be told?It came to her she was horny now too. The seaside paradise, the hidden haven of a little heaven on earth beside the sea was ideal for temptation. That is why so much had happened here. She felt safe and protected, private, and secure enough to give herself freely to nudity, to her husband, to losing her maidenhead, to making - no, use Joey’s.