I missed the joke. He then said something to her that I missed as he came to her with all the familiarity of a lover. She laughed happily at whatever ...it was. Then he ushered her down the hallway into the bedroom and locked the door behind them. What the French fuck?! I thought to myself. I may be wobbly--okay, I was drunk--but he wasn't going to do this shit right in front of me, for crying the fuck out loud! I would show the both of them. I heaved myself off the couch and headed down the hall. "Touch yourself." A faint 'Yes Sir' came from her lips as he sat on the arm of his chair, watching her breasts heaving up and down with her breath as her tiny hands started rubbing her pussy gently. Moving slowly, I could tell that Dad was getting quite excited because the tip of his cock was now showing against his thigh."Show me how you pull your little love lips open and touch yourself. Use your fingers and push them into that hot little honey pot." He began stroking hard, watching her. It was mid-afternoon and I sat in a trance from the hypnotic dance my friend was executing flawlessly, her hips swaying with fluidity, whilst she turned with the grace of a ballerina. This was the sordid dance of two lovers in their own world and I was just a mere fly on the wall. It was practically like they had forgotten I was here. I was instructed before I went in the hotel room to sit and watch, which I did as I was told; she just failed to mention that they’d ignore my existence. I soon. Well, I asked her, wondering about Pat and Trish and what she had said about helping each other. Hmm! They did. There were just three girls in the tent, and they did it in a triangle – no one left out. So then, when it seemed that you weren’t coming back so soon, and probably wouldn’t for a while, well, we did it. I was thinking I would like it.’ Jean just nodded. Trish, who had been more hesitant about it, but then found out that she liked it and could admit it, replied quietly: ‘I was too,.