We also talked about needing to set up nurseries at the ranch and condo, and the various ‘baby furniture’ we’d need to get.Margo insisted, “I�...��m only about eight weeks pregnant, so please don’t start to do all of this stuff for a while. I want to try to preserve the status quo, at least for a couple more months.”I asked, “What about sex?”Margo grinned, “Here in the kitchen or do you want to go to the patio or bedroom?”I shook my head, “I think you just answered my question.”As we were putting. Callum didn’t care about my old knickers; he had my arse cheeks spread and was fingering my recently uncared for pussy. God I loved his fingers in me. He was an assured prick. He was in my cunt, deep and dirty. How he liked it. Equally, how I liked it. The library, the bloody library, I realised, anyone could come, anytime.The thought was lost as I was coming, oh so quickly. My clitty was getting a treat under his thumb. The shelves were swaying. There was a bit of creaking too. I was holding. .. I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you worry.." I continued talking, and my Daddy came up with another devious idea. I had not put back on any of my clothes yet. Daddy picked me up and placed me in his lap. I felt his hard cock standing straight up at my hole, and he pushed me down onto it all the way. The sensation was incredible and I gasped."What, no baby, I just stubbed my toe, I'm Oooookay!" I squeaked as Daddy lifted me and slammed me back down onto his cock.Daddy continued fucking me. Mademoiselle Boucher really whippedmy little spawn into shape, in that regard."I remember after my first dance recital, my sisters teasing memercilessly. They called me terrible things like "clumsy and oaf", buteven worse things like "tomboy, butch, stud, and manly." No sissy wantsto ever be compared with anything masculine. I cried and cried and thencried some more. Tears staining my little tutu. Their non-stop tauntingdid motivate me. I begged for mother to find me a dance tutor. When.