More incoherent words followed. I found myself cracking the door open. "Daddy?" I whispered."Oh Mia," his voice moaned in the dark. He sounded so mour...nful, as though he were crying. I could hear his body thrashing about in the bed restlessly.Figuring he was dreaming, I approached the bed to wake him from this fitful sleep. "It's ok, it's ok," I cooed in a soothing voice, stroking his sleeping body.Slightly startled my father reached up and guided my hand down to his erect cock. "Oh Mia," he. They weren't even wearing aprons any more, and neither was Nigella. This was a dream. None of us were going to get burned by hot fat. They were all doing a great job of preparing a gourmet meal, but I was Gordon Ramsay, and this was Kitchen Nightmares , so I just pretended they were incompetent, because it was more fun that way. "You've got to be fuckin' kidding me!" I cried. "You call that chopping parsley!" The cute pink-cheeked little butter ball was actually doing an awesome job, but I. I watched Hubby, as he fucked the crying one, fucked her until she sobbed again. I dragged my eyes from him. The other one was being spit roasted. I looked away, concentrating on my own pleasure. My pleasure, my orgasm. My cock. I leant right back, my head touching the floor, it forced his cock up against my G-spot. He didn’t slow. The fucking continued, as I slowly sat back up, the years crunches paying off. My juices were pouring out of me, making my inner thighs shine. His cock was powering. If she was marrying me to make him happy, she should have no compunctions about fucking around. That was depressing, but not soul shattering.What crushed me was when she told the good doctor that I wasn’t the biological father to any of our three children. Oddly, the first thing that went through my mind was what sort of a lunatic thinks that was the pillow talk that would woo you a new husband? The video was detailed enough for me to see him flinch and a look of disgust flashed across his.