The only time he’d ever graced a church was to see the boss. He got out as fast as possible, afraid the place might rub off on him and he would star... dressing like a choir boy. It was bad enough that the Mob was rife with “good” Catholics, who’d never miss Sunday Mass but also thought nothing of dropping a perceived enemy off a bridge with a concrete block chained to his feet. The paradox was too much for a realist like him. He would never be a big enough fool to fall for that mumbo. He studiously ignores her as she wanders to the alcove and sitting on the toilet, pees without shame, staring at her fathers muscular form. She smirks as she wipes herself and then drops her thong panties to the floor. Good morning, Dad! she murmurs as she removes her bra. Not glancing up, Jacob grunts, Good morning, honey. Megan frowns as he doesnt look up and she turns and turns on the shower. I am interested in Jacobs self control now. He tenses up as he hears the water running. A minute. More

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