My father George was a stout Yorkshire man, and his wife, my mother Kathywere totally straight down the line on everything, to them everything waseith...r black or white, no grey area at all, my father's words to me were,"Bloody hell, my son's a poof, if he wants to do that, then he can pissoff and live somewhere he's not known, I'm having no pervert live undermy roof." As you see, my parents were very understanding and supportativeof me."I packed and left the next morning, with no goodbyes or. . I’ll take that as a yes." Feeling a little rejected, and more than a little bewildered, I stood, jutting cock in hand, watching as she rocked back and forth, her hand between her legs. With her eyes closed, she looked somewhere between having an orgasm and fighting to hold one back. After a moment, she collected herself and looked up. "Damn, that wasn’t part of the plan." "There’s a plan?" Trust me." She smiled. With a deep breath, she pulled her hand from between her legs and pulled her. More

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