Berny Ingleton, a 35 year old sheep farmer, lived with Martha his widowed 55 year old mother in the nether regions of North West England, growing shee...p for market. The wool was for the few textile companies still managing to exist in the bleak left overs of a once thriving industry.Bert, his deceased father was a land owner, with a string of five racehorses in training but gradually after his death Martha sold parcels of land, released the horses back to owners and converted a lot of out. Before this, I was sure he’d been done for the day. I stroked myself as I waited for Jacqui to recover enough to climb on over into the water. She half climbed, half rolled across the platform and let herself fall into the tank. I had to turn to the side as I climbed over, my throbbing pole bobbing with each step. The water enveloped me as I fell in beside Jacqui, her skin bright in the sun-drenched pool. She looked at my engorged cock and reached to stroke me with her hand.Insatiable, I saw. My sister was opening her forbidden flower to me. Her clit was glistening with the remaining dampness of her piss.Roopa pointed to my pants, wanting me to take them off. I shook my head, disapprovingly, reminding her of the presence of our parents. She seemed pissed off with my cowardice. She pushed back her skirt, covering her lovely pussy. The hell to my parents, i reached inside my pants, and pulled out my painful erection. Roopa smiled in satisfaction, pulling up her short skirt again. The. “Okay, let us check your height and weight.”She told me to take off my shoes and step on the scales. To my surprise, her hand slid over my butt. She didn’t grab it, it was like she was trying to keep me stable, I was well aware that my hard-on was visible.“Sean, you have lost a bit of weight since your last visit, but you still need to lose more. Okay, get undressed and let us see you.”I blushed and stammered. She just smiled at me and started to unbutton my shirt.“Don’t worry Sean, I am a.