"Let the idle bastard fetch his own cigarettes mum."He let out a roar and shot up from the table scattering plates and cutlery all over the floor."You...cheeky little bastard," he roared, "I'm your father, and I'll teach you some fucking respect."I'd had enough, more than enough, I'd lain in bed many a night listening to him rutting; he'd never made love to my mum, it had been more like rape. When I was younger, I'd cowered and watched as he'd beaten her, sometimes with his fists, sometimes his. I pull you up from the chair you have been curled in, reading. I take your book and set it down, drawing you into my arms, kissing you gently. My fingers playing in your still slightly damp hair. We shared a lovely shower earlier, where our removal of sun screen and sweat had led to me gasping against the wall of the shower as my cock pulsed in your mouth, spending myself against your tongue. I had chosen not to redress, lounging naked on our bed. You had put on a light robe, which I now untie. More

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