It then went quiet as the commotion of crowds of students making their way to their lessons faded away and soon Katie was alone, facing a clearly angr...y, but determined, Lindsay Pinkham. “Right Katie Spellman.” Lindsay picked up the wooden backed chair from behind the desk and placed it in the centre of the room. This was a well-rehearsed ritual, as, although Joanne Wilson was the Head Girl, Lindsay had been the Prefect who had administered the most punishments that year. She had a fearful. Dragging on a pair of shorts and slippers he wandered to the toilet and then into the living room, breakfast in the shape of serial, juice and the hot tea pot, awaited him on the table, but there was no sign of mother, she had slipped upstairs while he was in the toilet. He put milk on the flakes, then sat munching, mind in neutral, when quietly the door opened and a vision in green silk appeared, his jaw dropped open and his mother shyly blushing spun herself round the gown held tight to her. He was looking at her beautiful ass. His hands ran up and down it. He ran his forefinger in between the crack of her ass and down to her pussy. The Chief grabbed her ass cheeks and spread them wide. Charity felt his tongue on her asshole, and she flinched. But after a couple of seconds she rather enjoyed it. She was already building up to an orgasm; just from the tongue-lashing he was giving her ass. The Chiefs’ tongue slipped down to her pussy, and his finger in her ass, that sent Charity over. She always had a story to tell, hugs for the kids, and laughter and cheer for all. She was a God fearing woman that wouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain or cuss even in the nastiest situations. Being Pennsylvania Dutch, she had a bit of an accent, and my name always came out ‘Chonny,’ instead of ‘Johnny.’ I was seven years old and it was snowing like a banshee outside. Schools were closed and my Father had taken off work early to get Nana before she was stuck home for the holiday. As my Father.