That time I had been about to rinse and the boom-poof of a cold draft cued me to the fact I was suddenly not alone. Indeed, my reason for writing it is for my own clarification as to my motives and weaknesses and needs that led to the folly and fun of incest when I fucked my son Robert. You jizz In fact, it was a turn-on in a strange exotic way, like I was a stripper, performing for a patron. His excuse for the previous times was that his sister was using the other toilet, and he had to go real bad. GOD!! Just like a sultry heroine in those romance novels, who’s attracted to the bad-boy image of the romantic leading man of the plot, I had smoldering yearning.
