He sent a draft to Devi who thrillingly recited them to me in our marital bed and gave it to Bess. The simplicity and avoidance of ripe sentimentality...along with its surprising and even amusing rhymes in the classic sonnet structure impressed us all. Unaware of my son's talent made me feel even more inadequate as a father.Greeting my son as he emerged from the gate at JFK, though pleased to see me, I realized my hug delayed his hugging Bess and especially Devi and he made quick work of it. Bess. My dad had positioned himself so he could easily see both me and the TV. I was sat on the armchair. I couldn't bear it any more. I threw my legs over either arm of the chair, pulled my kinickers to one side and rammed my hand into my cunt. I said, in my best little girl voice. 'I'm sorry daddy, but I need to wank myself off'.My dad was now not looking at the TV at all, but you could still hear the smut coming out of the speaker. He focussed on me, rubbed his cock through his jeans and said. More

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