He had reddish brown hair, unkempt, he smelled like cheap wine, and he had a lot of stubble on his face. He stood in a dirty gray trenchcoat, with a s...eatshirt and dirty, wrinkled, faded blue jeans on, along with leather boots that had seen their better days. He also wore a Crocodile Dundee-style hat, but he was no Paul Hogan, not even Australian at all.“James, leave us alone, okay? We’re over. Face it, okay? Just go wherever you like, but leave us the fuck alone!” Nicole tried to reason with. That feels so gooood."). One weekend afternoon, something snapped within me and I subconsciously but boldly let him catch me rubbing one out on his bed while watching an incest porno on my computer ("Um. . . Mom? Wha. . ."). I knew he was home but pretended I didn't ("Oh my god! Danny! Where did you come from?" Of course, the obvious answer was--my pussy). I looked guilty while he stared wordlessly at me for an indescribably long time. Then he opened his fly and showed me his cock. Oh my god!. More

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