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Doug ran into the room and to his father."Dad don't"One of the Japanese men walked in front of Doug."Dougson, is okay... we share... just like we share profitable business" Relax son... I have never cheated on your mom before, but how often does an old man like me get a chance of some hot young pussy like this" and at that moment Herb slowly slid his dick unknowingly into his daughters pussy. Jordan joined the Japanese man talking to Doug. She then went to her knees and pulled down his pants, Doug tried to stop her but the Japanese man was tapping his shoulder and nodding. He felt helpless as he watched his father fuck his daughter from behind while he was getting his own cock sucked.Jordan swallowed all of Doug's cum and went back to work fucking one of the clients. Doug's own mind was clouded. It was too late to stop this incest but at the same time he was turned on by the seen. His little sisters body arched back with each push of his father's cock into her pussy. Herb's orgasm. ”It took me a moment to figure out how to respond to that.“Why?”“Because I think you need holding,” he said – still talking into my hair. I could feel his breath pushing at the back of my head. I could feel his lips brushing against me. I could feel my hair being moved as he pushed his face into the back of my head.“But...” I said.I had no idea how to finish the sentence.How could I have been so stupid?“You don’t hate me?” I whispered, my voice trembling.“I love you,” said Dan. “I love you totally and unconditionally.”“But I...”Pesky sentence – it still refused to have an ending.“Shh!” he whispered and kissed my head. “It was a mistake, nothing more.”Is that what it was? A mistake?I watched Mum cheerfully pushing paint around on the wall. Behind Mum, sprawled out on her red velvet sofa, that other Bec looked back at me. Her eyes full of lust. Her lips red with desire.I let her out. I let her loose and she tried to seduce Dan.It was a mistake.“I understand why it happened,” whispered.
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One night I diverted from my normal schedule. Instead of heading to the cafeteria patio tables, — which conveniently circled an eerie-lighted bell tower. Perfect for writing. — I walked to a coffee shop, Bongo Java, down the street from my apartment. It was a small house with a large patio notorious for being frequented by high school and college students wanting liquor from the gas station next door. All of whom were chased away by the coffeehouse owner, except for the legal ones, who he sat and drank with. In a sense he chaperoned the students and kept an eye on his business. Smart man. I was wearing my leather Victoria’s Secret jacket. A soft motorcycle leather I earned with blood and sweat building theater sets. It was a cool Spring evening. Or technically night. Several of the insomniac university students were there. One I knew from an English class. Didn’t recognize anyone else. At first, I was hesitant to join. I wasn’t sure how many were drinking. There were about twelve.

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