He was always a bit too interested in what girls had under their skirts. I remember having to wash my own panties because he'd steal them from the dir...y clothes hamper if I left them for Mom.He wasn't much of a fighter either. I mean, we lived with Dad. Dad was maybe five two, and had the red hair of your typical Irishman. He loved to play up his heritage and that seemed to come with a quick temper. Father loved to brawl. It was never personal and I don't think he really tried to hurt anyone,. “Farther, honey,” I said between smothered licks of her nipples, which were now very erect. She scooted forward and I felt the bristly scruff of her beaver on my chest. I tongued her navel as she reached around and grasped my cock.“God almighty, Peter, I hope you don't get any bigger.”“I just want to be big enough to please you every night.”“Honey, you've got plenty for that job.” I felt her guide my glans between her lips and ease herself onto my pipe.“Ungh,” she groaned. “Ungh. Oh. Oh, Peter.. More

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