Now Tara was crouched in the bath over the top of her, arranging the comforter to keep Angie warm. Angie was fussing and whimpering at the disturbance... but seemed to be mostly still out of it.I handed one of the knives to Mum. She took it from me and her face went from dangerous to completely scary. I was kind of glad she was on my side.“Get in the bath with your sister and crouch down,” she hissed at me through clenched teeth. Then she turned and faced the door, holding the knife ready to slice. The following Saturday night Liane and I went out for an early dinner at one of our favorite local restaurants. Liane asked the waitress if we could sit at one of the back private booths. This is a first I thought to myself. Or maybe because she was dressed so sexy and didn't want to draw any attention to herself should someone we know show up there. We ordered our dinners!Half way through our meals Liane stopped eating for a second and asked me, "Wayne, I want you to be honest with me so let. There was a security light to the side of the storage locker, but where the door opened against the wall there was deep shadow, so even anyone coming from the right wouldn't see us. How she had discovered this blind spot I don't know.She pulled down my tracksuit bottoms and shorts and deep throated me. No preliminary hand stroking of my prick, no tongue tasting of my knob end, she just took me straight into her mouth and down her throat. I could feel her lips on my balls, and my prick being. And the worst thing was that the lord had nobody else to blame but himself.Would the lord now be known simply as Mr. Norman Francis Erickson? Possibly he could still be left with a honorary title. Something with a less noble sound such as 'Sir'. Sir Norman was better than nothing, although it could never compare to Lord Newbury. That was a proper title. But if they could scrap the Royal Family, mightn't they also scrap the Honours System. Titles such as the Order or Commander of the British.