Jack dove for a kitchen chair and I was just shoving myself back from the counter when my dad walked in. Jack said “Hey,” but Dad ignored him. He...seemed to be staring at my boobs. “I wouldn’t have recognized you on the street, Puss,” he finally said. “Yeah, well it’s been eight years,” I said. I wouldn’t have recognized him, either. He’d been going bald the last time I saw him. Now he had a bunch of hair on his head, like some kind of hair hat. He also had puffy cheeks and a real, wrinkly. I felt like this monster was going to rip my hair out while he started to thrust away harder. Now a feeling of guilt was sprouting amongst overwhelming fear and pain. A piece of my deep womanhood was actually being aroused by this rough fucking. Save for maybe the first years of college before I met my husband, I had never been fucked like this. Utter guilt took over me as I started to moan louder. I couldn’t help it. The harder he pulled my hair and squeezed my tit the more I started to feel a. More

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