”“Dad had told him if he didn’t work, he would do something bad to himself. But then he died anyway. When I was six, terrorists bombed the plant... that he was working at and killed him. I only saw my dad about twice a year after mum died.”“He came on my birthday and then again later in the year for my grandparent’s birthdays. He never came for Christmas because that was when mum had died. So, I barely remember him. That is why my grandparents raised me.”“One of the two pictures I have of my mum. This was too much. Tommy went into the toilet, closedthe door, locked it, and within five minutes blew athick load into the toilet. His tension dissipated withthe sound of flushing water. He felt more at ease. Hislegs were shaking less now as he slipped each footthrough the holes in his trunks. He felt exhausted justfrom the events after school. He still had to finish amajor essay on the New Zealand poet, James K. Baxter. Only just yesterday had he read the introduction to theauthor’s. I swallowed hard as she squeezed them again. Her hand released them and slid over my bulge before she took it away."Now you can sweep the floor, but first... Fill me up," she said with a wicked grin on her face and her coffee mug out.I refilled her mug and handed it back before getting the broom and dustpan. I began sweeping."Turn around so I can watch your beautiful bum while you work," she teased, "like you watch me."Each time I glanced at her she either licked her lips, slowly, or pushed her. Her hands gathered her hem as he felt her legs spreading, then the shadow of her legs as they folded on her chest. Her cunt scent rose around his face as he sank it into her steamy crotch. It was a soft, hot, wet mass of cunt meat that opened wider as his tongue slid into her. Her cunt hole opened widely, so wide that he had to swipe side to side to feel her cunt walls. He was nose deep before his head bumped her wide clitoris. He was holding his breath as she poured cunt oils over his face..