We moved away but occasionally kept in touch. A few years later (I was mid-forties by then) Frank sadly passed away and we attended his funeral to sho...w our appreciation and respect for all he had done for us. It was 9 months before I saw Aunt Jean again. I was in the area on business and thought I’d pop in and see her. I’d always fancied her and I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit I had half a thought on fulfilling my fantasy of bedding her. She answered the door and it was obvious she was. He had me marked again. We let David come along, too. The tattooist combed my long blonde hair forward and shaved it from the base of my neck to high on my neck. He fashioned a tribal design. It has images of black men fucking white women. On the left side, high on my neck he tattooed Del's initials. The marks were three inches high. I could comb him hair back over the skin illustration. It was almost invisible. I saw David go to the restroom three times. I know what he was doing in there. *. I know you were using me to get something from your brother, but I was flattered that anyone would go to that much trouble to go out with me. If this really teaches you to be a better person, then I am totally for it,” she laughed at Taffy.“Thank you, Ma’am,” Tiffany replied begrudgingly.“It can’t be all bad, is it?” Sheila asked Taffy.“No, not all bad, Ma’am,” Taffy blushed.“What do you like most about it?” she asked.Taffy was reluctant to give an answer, but she knew my father expected total. I figured the workers were having some iced tea or maybe using the bathroom. When I went inside, however, I heard a noise upstairs. It was the unmistakable, rhythmic slapping of flesh-on-flesh, and I could hear my wife moaning her usual chant of ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ She was getting fucked, and fucked good. I hurriedly pulled off my shoes and crept up the carpeted stairs. My cock was already starting to swell at the thought of what I was going to see, and I was hoping I hadn’t missed much. I got.