.' Stunned that I even had to come up with an excuse for watching my father masturbate in the shower, I apologized, and ran to my room.The images of h...im, doing those things to himself. Gently stroking his long, thick cock like that. Saying my name.It made me curious.. And wet.I realised to myself, that I had been subconsciously dressing in skimpy, revealing clothing.. To get his attention.I wanted my father, in ways I had never imagined......We didnt speak that night, all I heard from her, were. Someone who we have all seen, someone who has a aura and a way of carrying themselves that oozes sexuality but kept under a packaging that lets you know of the content but you will never see.Keeping this in mind…..I was travelling back home from a long hard project abroad, back to the UK. At the airport there was the usual commotion and confusion about checking in. Business was overbooked and, because I had some spare cash, I upgraded to first class. A nice way to travel, and on a long flight. They liked the bare-faced boldness with which she confessed that she didn’t have any experience in this field, her determination to achieve what she had set out to achieve and her willingness to do whatever necessary to get what she wanted, something Jim Taylor Jr. experienced on his own flesh. They called her ‘goal-oriented’. She would have said it was her determination to survive. —– The part of town where Mirella grew up was considered a rough area. Concerned mothers would keep their. ” No, OK. “Have a top up of coffee then.” Why does his eyes keep looking down there. I look down and oh frig! A button’s come undone. I think I’m flashing my Lucy! Because my pyjama bottoms are a bit tight, it’s quite noticeable. He’s seen my landing strip and everything. He’s spotted that I’ve spotted that he’s seen my pubes. Now there’s that awkward moment when I’m wondering whether to laugh it off, politely excuse myself to rearrange things or just brazenly carry on like a slut. That’s easy..