My heart was thudding, she was hot, just like her mother had been. But Molly was so much sweeter. I closed my eyes and imagined just for a second---wh...t a pervert I was. She was my own baby girl, her pussy as bald now as it was when I had diapered her all those years ago.I couldn't talk on the drive back. Molly was quiet too, fiddling with the radio until she got a country station she liked. She sang along in her husky voice and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I wanted to fuck. Myself not least.Then there's the entrance, with its doormen and luxurious red carpeting, and the elegant table with the gilt-lettered parchment, Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Plantagenet. I'm just Mrs. Him.The wine is typical-- the best doesn't get any better if you've had it seven times in the last year-- and the conversation doubly so. This is all building to a fever pitch for me, and with a fixed smile I excuse myself to powder my nose ... and head instead for the exit. My head is ringing, and my. More

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