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John had picked that particular moment to come through the front door, and the inevitable differences in their physical make-up snagged his attention as he gazed on her naked body for the first time ever. Meg‘s reaction was to freeze in her tracks at John’s visual invasion of her naked self. They stared at each other for what seemed like days. Meg wasn’t sure if she wanted to run, or just melt into the floor, but his assessment of her left a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach that wasn’t all that unpleasant. If the truth be known, she was actually feeling quite happy at being ogled for the first time in her life.John couldn’t quite get his head wrapped around the fact that Meg was standing in front of him naked, and not all that unappealing. Hell, she even had tits! Not as big as the thickness of his hand, mind you, but they were there. Well, sort of. Shit, her nipples were almost as big as the orbs that carried them. And it wasn’t as though she didn’t have hips. It was. I stroked my cock to match her same speed as my mind felt her warm pussy surround my cock. I moaned her name, “Misty, Oh yes, Misty,” as I watched her lips say, “Yes, Brian, Oh god, yes.”Misty shuddered with an orgasm, and I orgasmed at the same time, my jizz again splattered aginst the laptop monitor. She laid there and recovered for a minute before getting up and walking out of view. Then returned a moment later with a pair of pink panties. She held them up for me to see, then took them and rubbed them all over he wet pussy. Then dropped them in a ziplock bag.She pointed down at my yard and held up two fingers, then disappeared from view. I closed up the laptop and climbed out of the treehouse. I walked along the fence that separated our two yards until I heard her whisper my name.“Brian,” she whispered.I walked a few more steps along the fence before I whispered back, “I’m here.”The ziplock bag appeared at the top of the fence, and I reached up and took it.“Did you record it?” she.
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My father may be a hard man, but hes neither cold nor cruel. What I wouldnt give to hug him right now, to feel safe in the way that only a loving father can provide. Make it quick, he says, stepping aside and it might as well be a hug from him. I am quick to comply, stumbling through the doorway in my haste. Be careful, he says, catching my arm to steady me before looking outside again and calling, You can come in too. He says this to the man who stood behind me at the doorway. The man towers a massive foot and a half over my father, opposite from him in every way possible. Where my dad is short and stocky, he is tall and well-built. His skin is pale compared to dads and his hair shockingly ash-blonde, kept just a little too long for contemporary tastes. Black tribal tattoos creep across his forearms peeking out from beneath rolled up sleeves, my father hates tattoos. Ice-blue eyes pierce the deep brown pair which sharpen with suspicion once more. I never got your name, he says.

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