Entering by the long, unlighted, high-ceiling front hall, I assumed everyone was asleep. But Aunt Frances was waiting up for me in her long white nigh...tgown on the living room sofa."Where the hell have *you* been?" she demanded as I walked into the room.I knew from long experience that the best tactic for handling Aunt Frances under these circumstances was to appear unfazed and keep on grinning.I answered, "The movies." You trying to give your Aunt Frances a heart attack? Huh? You want your poor. Their son Jamie was the chef, and his wife Claudia managed the restaurant and the accounts. They enjoyed a still small but growing volume of business in group visits, and Margot doubled as the group hostess – a role Greg was sure she would excel in, with her warm smile and welcoming manner. Sarah and Margot were sipping wine at a pergola-shaded table in the garden when Philip and Greg rejoined them. Sarah handed him the menu card she had been studying. “I recommend the ostrich steak,” she. Some of the bois were bitching and moaning that from time to time they wanted a male cock up their asses. I, understanding that I could not refuse set some rules. The bois doing the work of “fuckers” had to be the ones we already know and that have been here with us since day one. I really did not want any abusive male coming in and spoiling our fun. No offense to our gay friends here in Lush Stories but I really never had any interest in having sex with another man. It just did not attract me.. “OH, FUCK, .... FUCK, FUCK, sorry Sir, but my bum feels like it’s on fire,” she squealed before adding, “Five Sir”. As Debbie bent back down for her final stroke, my eyes focused on the delightful crease where bottom and thigh merge, “One more stroke Debbie, what’s special about the last stroke?” I simply couldn’t resist teasing her. “I’d like to say it’s the softest Sir, but I know it’s going to be the hardest,” she replied with an air of trepidation, but perhaps also intermixed with an air of.