I was playing furiously, my eyes glued to the spectacle unfolding. Jules reached for the bottle and started turning it round, clockwise, yes definitel...y clockwise. Jules was obviously exerting a little linear pressure too, as the bottle started a very slow journey deeper into the wetness. I remember thinking that it would not fit but a little voice in my head was saying, “She’ll breeze it if she’s had kids.” My very own Jiminy cricket was having his theorem proved by Jules, as the champagne. I got another boy to fill the vacant bed, and spent a month fucking him stupid, and gave him freedom in return. Unlike the other boys, he showered in my bathroom with its own hot water, bought nice clothes, mooched about the house instead of earning money outside. The boys hated him, I could see, but dared not lift a finger against my 'favourite'.There was something about him that made you like him less over time. Maybe it was the knowledge his life was all coke-and-tails parties before he'd. Then he pressed it in and in until I was full. It was a wonderful feeling and unlike any I had experience until then. As my father made love to me he kissed me, told me that he loved me, and made me feel like a real woman. Soon I felt my orgasm coming on. It started out small, somewhere in the pit of my stomach, and built up into a crescendo until I wrapped my arms around my father’s back, wrapped my legs around his butt, and whispered back at him that I loved him too. For a moment he was. She was alarmed that she could also feel wetness between her legs. Sally had not felt this way in years. It had been a long time since she had been able to totally let go but she was afraid of what might happen. “Ok, again I don’t mean to upset you Sally. I hope you did get angry at me.”“No, I am not angry. It is just so naughty the things that we are talking about. Here we are at a Church meeting talking about such nasty things. It seems wrong to think about these things,” Sally said.