Chapter 1: Once Upon A Time
All the best stories start with once upon a time, so we shall not disappoint.
So, our tale starts once upon a time long, long ago way back in the 1970’s where on a run down council housing estate somewhere in the South West of England there lived the Twerks family with the third generation now living in the same house.
During their time on the estate just about every member of the family had attended the same local comprehensive school, a place where the dilapidated school buildings and frazzled staff could do little to encourage much by way of formal education. Yet in many other ways the school offered a wealth of more worldly information where extra curricular modules were available encompassing an array of specialist subjects. Available singularly or for groups tuition ranged from car theft, burglary, pimping for beginners and advanced unisex coitus interruptus for the oversexed adolescent the foundation courses were freely available to all. The latter subject being very popular with the more extrovert adolescent for there were no computers to enlighten, only a few highly prized and heavily stained magazines. Other than that sex education was left to the imagination which generally led to something of the hands-on and messy variety, possibly aided by an over-excited friend or conscripted sibling.
At the Twerks household, situate number thirteen Cockburn Rise the evening was passing pretty much as usual with parents Wayne and Doreen verging on the comatose slumped in front of a blaring television. Whilst in the bedrooms above, to the noise of the television echoing through the floor Kelvin and Jason would occupy themselves with whatever new method of self-abuse they could dream up or had heard talked about at school.
And so it was. Well, until somewhere around half-past nine when an almighty crash shook the house leaving Wayne and Doreen most definitely stirred, if not badly shaken. Wayne slowly realised it had originated from Kelvin’s bedroom which was immediately above the living room, so with great reluctance and considerable effort managed to wrest himself from the comfort of the armchair and actually stand up. Peering through the fug of tobacco smoke that permanently enveloped wife Doreen he saw she too was staring up towards the ceiling and focused on the nicotine coloured lampshade. Swinging from it’s matching nicotine coloured cable it had already begun to charge the atmosphere with a vast cloud of the concentrated nicotine particles. Since they had taken over the house from their chain smoking parents it stood to reason the dust had been collecting on it for a long, long time and was going to comprehensively shower everything when it was finally disturbed.
“Wot the bleedin’ hell’s going on up there now!” cried Wayne, flapping his arms around in an effort to dispel the thick yellow cloud that was beginning to settle and stick to the layer of Brylcreem covering his hair. “Where’s all this shit come from!”
“Well don’t bleeding push it over me!” said Doreen flapping the dust cloud back.
“Oh shit! Look at me hair!”
“Wayne, it’s him again innit?” screeched Doreen above the television, she brushed the yellow dust and fallen cigarette ash off her ample stomach onto the ancient cat lying on the threadbare carpet below. Wayne’s hair was of little concern.
“Wotever’s he bloody doing now?” Wayne shouted above the prattle coming from the television. “Dirty little bugger he is!”
“Well you knows as well as I do wot he’s bleeding doing up there,” she took a long drag on her cigarette, “dirty little sod, now yer his father so yer’s go and tell him!”
“Yeah, alright, just bloody shut up will yer! I’s had enough of him wot with this shit!”
Wayne, his muscles aching having had a very tiring day on the building site moving planks around as a fully accredited scaffolder’s labourer was having some difficulty in moving at all. If he were honest he wasn’t really interested in what was happening above and would have preferred to simply slurp back a couple more cans of lager.
“Wot?” shouted Doreen unable to hear his reply above the television. “Well bloody get on with it then!”
“Wot d’yer say?” replied Wayne quite unable to hear anything above the noise of the television.
“I told him he’s gotta stop bleeding doing it!”
Doreen’s words echoed behind Wayne. Narrowly missing standing on the full ashtray placed strategically on the floor by his armchair he stumbled out into hallway the cans of lager having taken effect. Partially deaf and unable what she was saying he exited right still muttering to himself.
“Wot the fucks she on about now, don’t she ever bleeding shut up! Wot with her and them bleeding kids, I don’t get five bleeding minutes to sit down!”
Wayne and Doreen had had a quadruple barrel shotgun wedding whilst in their teens and yet by some miracle had remained together. Euphemistically speaking, they had even managed to bring up the ensuing four boys in the cramped three bedroom, terraced council house. Wisely the two elder brothers had now left home, Asher having only just managed to get into the army as a private, while his eighteen year old sibling Darren was being currently cared for at one of Her Majesties hostelries for the wayward and dishonest youth of the parish. That left the two younger brothers at home, both being as mentally challenged as were their parents and older siblings, the fact was that taken overall any real form of cerebral matter was collectively or otherwise in very short supply.
With Kelvin now having just turned fifteen and Jason nearly thirteen the brothers had really only one thing in common and that was something to be had in almost literal bucket loads, testosterone and semen. In fact in Kelvin’s case there was so much was on tap that if it was not expended several times a day, in addition to a routine night and morning release then he was quite liable to ejaculate without warning. It wasn’t just starchy clothing that was the norm, it was anything in range and with such an overactive libido multiple wet dreams even at fifteen were fairly commonplace however embarrassing. In fact on Sunday mornings, between the two brothers the bedroom floors appeared to harmonise in a form of vibratory sexual resonance, especially when Kelvin’s built towards his third orgasm when even the windows might start to rattle.
It was a small house and with the four boys growing up Doreen had had to endure years of adolescent juices being squirted over everything from the threadbare carpets and curtains to the long suffering cat, which historically Darren used to very regularly interfere with. Faced with keeping Jason and Kelvin looking even vaguely presentable for school was pretty much a lost battle, nevertheless with a mother’s pride Doreen attempted to stand her ground. Buying fashionable clothes in an effort to make them to smarten themselves up from the rather majestically named Guptha’s International Warehouse was not so much one way, but the only way of doing it, as did the majority of families on the estate. The local comprehensive school knowing the financial constraints of many families did not insist on an actual uniform, but only the semblance of it, so long as something akin to a white shirt, a blazer and no jeans were worn.
Guptha’s International, an emporium where the word International was key since the stock consisted entirely of seconds, thirds or more likely fourths from every second-rate clothing sweat shop in the third world. Quality control was non-existent, size labels were incorrect, zips invariably stuck, seams easily ripped apart and it was not unknown to find school trousers with three legs. Irrespective of the fact that whether the clothing styles were from the fifties or sixties and it was now the late seventies, the byword for the unfashionably conscious Doreen was one word, cheap. Cheap and now even cheaper, since latterly she had obtained a part-time job at the very place so the entire family could be clothed in outmoded style and all for the price of one pair of socks from Woollies. Besides, Wayne couldn’t care less what he looked liked and since the boys didn’t seem to notice they were given no choice!
Jason who was luckily in possession of three functioning brain cells instead of the family regulation issue of two, looked surprisingly tidy in his flared trousers, even if one leg was slightly longer than the other and the pure nylon, gaudy purple socks rapidly made his feet smell. Kelvin though was a league of his own, a lost cause having developed his sexual excesses to the point of true excess, quite simply he was totally obsessed with self-abuse. He had no conception that going to school with glistening splodges on his trousers could possibly highlight the not inconsiderable bulge and accompanying wet spot that marked his constantly oozing foreskin. The sight of which, to some of the girls who attended the local comprehensive school was certainly a very graphic turn on and the cause of many a damp gusset! And, with Kelvin constantly readjusting matters the appeal was certainly there although sadly his very distinctive aroma coupled with a propensity to impart semen over anything he touched tended to negate any real further progress with the female sex.
Taken overall it was really getting too much for Doreen to cope with and she had almost reached the point of abandoning him to his sticky fate although, all said with a mother’s determination she hadn’t quite given up but instead had addressed the subject head on. She nagged him relentlessly about being apprehended yet again ejaculating on the bus or how revolting it was to have to deal with his dirty laundry, the ultimatum being unless he improved once he turned sixteen and had left school her responsibilities ended.
Kelvin having taken over what had been Asher’s bedroom had inherited the pine bed which had already seen a considerable amount of adolescent action and was actually second hand when first bought anyway. Having had Asher pounding away on it for several years the joints were no longer tight and it squeaked, in fact very often it appeared to squeak all night or at least that’s what Jason in the adjoining bedroom had been listening out for since he was ten. Once Asher had left for a life in the army, where he was thankfully not required to think, it was Darren’s turn as the elder brother to take over the single bedroom. That in turn left Kelvin and Jason sharing a room and to actively engage in the well known brotherly game of, listen for the bed squeaks and deny they were never of course either of theirs!
That though was now all history for it was Kelvin who had moved into the single bedroom safe in the knowledge that not even the cat would ever willingly venture into such a darkened smelly place anyway. The overall pervading aroma was of rotting feet, unwashed and oversexed teenager, none of which were exactly helped by the sickly scent that the yellowing mattress exuded. For in addition to Kelvin’s contributions, it being the original had been none too clean in the first place and had since received thousands of nocturnal infusions along with Darren’s unfortunate bed wetting episodes. Kelvin though, didn’t care about any of that since he now had somewhere to continue his incessant nightly activities and no longer be too bothered about leaving certain items around even if Jason was occasionally caught snooping around the room for evidence. That wasn’t of course to say that Jason wasn’t exactly a little angel himself, for his own very grubby little digits were certainly not entirely innocent of internal exploration either!
Not that Kelvin would ever notice he was in such a disgusting state, for being in a permanent state of arousal he was liable to ejaculate with little or no warning, just as he often did at school. The fact his hands appeared fixed to the insides of his pockets obviously had no bearing on the matter and to that end he was constantly searching for new exciting ways to bring about the inevitable orgasm. Only after considerable experimentation did he think he had finally found the perfect solution, actually to be more precise he had found something in a skip! Simplicity was the answer, so a very grubby Dunlopillo cushion from an old settee was taken home and with great ingenuity converted into the ultimate unisex orgasmic aid in the garden shed which also acted as workshop and a relatively safe refuge for a hand relief.
By cutting a strategically placed hole in it with his blunt penknife and then lying on top it would double, as he told himself rather simplistically as either a girl’s front hole or a boy’s back hole depending on his fantasy at the time. Usually though it was the boy’s back hole since he regularly explored his own anyway, besides for a shy and decidedly unhygienic adolescent onanist it was an awful lot easier than attempting to arrange an embarrassing fumbled liaison with a real live girl. That was assuming she could even stand the smell and he would probably be far too embarrassed to unzip his trousers anyway! Other than one very abortive attempt to explore the female anatomy his knowledge of the subject was only what he had seen in the torn, tatty, semen stained fragments of magazines that Darren had left behind under the bed.
However, Kelvin’s rubberised, enhanced sexual modus operandi was breathtakingly simple. First place said artificial sponge rubber orifice on top of stained bed clothes, expose the throbbing sticky member, feed into hole, commence fantasising and hump away. Then, with lust sated the clever design with the inherent built in disposal system ensured all seminal deposits would be quickly absorbed by the texture of the cushion itself. But that was theory for alas, in practice after a few weeks continuous use the cushion was twice it’s own weight with multitudinous infusions of sperm so that it positively reeked and would ooze semen onto all it touched.
On that fateful day as was usual for Kelvin, despite having ejaculated several times into his underpants during the school day had managed it once again on the short bus journey going home, luckily this time without being caught. Looking forward to his gourmet tea of battered, pre-fabricated chicken lumpy bits and crinkle cut chips smothered in an ocean of tomato ketchup he walked from the bus stop with his soggy underpants sticking to his pubic hairs. Unsurprisingly after such a day of constant penile activity a respite was often required, so it was shortly before eight o’clock on that prophetic evening that he began to prepare himself for the exciting ritual to come.
In fact the main event was going to be considerably enhanced by the visual pleasures of the damp and sticky pages of an old copy of Razzle which had been lent to him by Dave, one of his classmates at school. Dragging the cushion out from under the bed he dropped it on top of the heavily stained candlewick bedspread with a satisfying squelch. Then, after groping around under the mattress to locate his anal accoutrements in the form of two short candles he was now prepared for some serious humping should the stained pages of the magazine not sufficiently excite.
Unzipping his trousers they dropped slowly to the floor taking with them a pair of Guptha’s International finest imitation lime green Y-fronts replete with orange banding and vast swathes of semi-dry semen. His cock immediately twanged into view, a magnificent thick organ of well over six inches in length with a very bulbous head, the all encompassing foreskin containing the full spectrum of macrobiotic life which thrived on the ample selection of aging soft cheeses maturing in the fetid darkness. Unable to shake the cloying briefs off his left leg he climbed onto the bed with his erection quivering in anticipation, slowly retracting the capacious foreskin he wisely ignored white sticky bits and the accompanying smell. Slowly, taking careful aim he lunged forward plunging himself into the beckoning slit on the top of the cushion with a satisfying squelch allowing that very morning’s earlier cold and semi-congealed seminal infusion acting as delightfully sexually perfumed lubricant.
Frantically turning the pages of the magazine before him he commenced humping. He noted all sensation had been dramatically increased by the initial retraction his foreskin so allowing the generously proportioned purple head to thrust freely within the squidgy mix of fermenting semen and decaying rubber particles. It was as he concluded on increasing his gyrations to their absolute athletic maximum, probably the very best rubberised shag he had had yet. Unaware that his exertions would eventually bring an unscheduled paternal visitation he continued to work himself up into such a frenzy that the whole bed was swaying in unison to his arching back. That in turn put a considerable strain onto the wooden joints and whilst he was oblivious to the violent squeaking noises, Jason in the adjoining bedroom was most certainly not and by now with cock in hand had put down his comic and listened out for any exciting extraneous noises.
Mentally exhausted after digesting the various cartoons in the Beano, Jason had switched to his other main interest and had his jeans around his knees with one hand pushed down the front his purple paisley pattern, early seventies style imitation Y-fronts also as retailed by Guptha’s International. It had never taken much to get Jason aroused so the thought of what his brother was now doing added to the excitement. Ideally he would have liked to have just pulled his much abused four inches out through the paisley patterned fly, but being Guptha’s International quality clothing meant that the fly had been sown up by mistake. That was something which poor Jason had discovered to his cost when he first wore them to school and was extremely desperate for a pee between lessons, his trousers though did dry out before he got home.
All said, even for that amount of activity it was in effect just a fairly typical evening in the Twerks household where the television thundered away in the smoke filled living room whilst the two boys did their best to masturbate themselves senseless in their bedrooms above.
However, on that fateful evening with Kelvin straining every muscle to give his all, it should have been no great surprise when the footboard of the bed parted company from the rest of the bed frame. There was a dreadful splintering sound followed by a loud crash which shook the house as the end of the bed frame complete with mattress and the still gyrating Kelvin hit the floor. However, nothing was to stop Kelvin who was yet to ejaculate and that included him continuing to hump while lying on the uphill slope since the headboard was amazingly somehow still attached.
The crash happened with Jason having literally only just ejaculated in his briefs, nevertheless he still managed to be the first on the scene immediately rushing in hoping to find Kelvin in an embarrassing situation. Holding his jeans up as he ran he arrived with his purple paisley pants on display through the open fly and wiping his slimy fingers onto the very grubby school shirt.
“Fuckin’ hell!” exclaimed Jason, his erotic prayers answered on seeing Kelvin’s white, plump, very spotty bottom thrashing up and down on the bed. “Oh fuckin’ hell Kelv wot’s yer fuckin’ done now?”
Continuing to inwardly pulsate Kelvin wasn’t listening, he was literally on the cusp of what threatened to be his largest orgasm ever. In his blurred mind he couldn’t care less if Jason had seen his bottom for when previously sharing the bedroom they had often inspected and fondled each others clammy dangly bits and orifices.
“Fuck! Fuck! Oh fuck!” gasped Kelvin fixated by the dilated vaginal picture in front him, which judging by the stains on the page was one of the magazine’s many reader’s favourites.
Jason was hoping to witness what could be several night’s worth of nearly thirteen year old fantasies for it had been some months since he had last seen Kelvin’s cock in action. He wished if only Kelvin would roll over to show just how big his cock had now grown and then let him witness the actual moment of ejaculation.
“Fuck.. cor, oh fuck.. wot’s that’s yer on top of… come on Kelv let’s have a look!”
“Ooohhh fuck!” groaned Kelvin, his body beginning to violently tremble. “Ooohhh…”
Jason thought it was really exciting and even though he had only ejaculated barely a minute before, his hand had quickly passed through the special bottomless pocket of his jeans. Having already forgotten his fly was wide open the clammy fingers could be seen burrowing under the elastic of the briefs to energetically work the foreskin over the head of his cock, not for the first time he used the earlier discharge as lubricant.
“Kelv don’t be fucking mean, show us yer cock when yer cums!”
“Wot the bleedin’ hells going on!” somewhat theatrically Wayne burst into the room, naturally with cigarette in hand and breathing smoke like an out of breath fire breathing dragon. “Wot’s all this fucking noise about!”
“He’s bust his bed dad!” volunteered Jason helpfully just in case he hadn’t noticed.
“He bleeding wot!”
“He been looking at they gert tits in that dirty book!”
Wayne looked around in surprise then back down at Kelvin who staring at the magazine was verging on ejaculation and unable to stop humping even if he had wanted too, he continued to force himself into the squelchy cushion.
“The dirty little sod’s wanking again!” it was an acute observation from the father of four boys who in his own youth would have certainly out performed Kelvin anyway.
“Wot’s wanking?” squeaked Jason trying not to giggle, as yet unaware he was about to compound his own embarrassment especially with his open fly.
“Wot’s wanking?” echoed Wayne, his mood softening, he looked at Jason, ash fell to the floor, it was time for a bit of fun. “Wot’s wanking?”
Along with illiteracy, wanking ran high in the Twerks family dynasty. Wayne who knew more about wanking than any of them flushed as he recalled his own youth, positively awash with semen thinking he could have wanked for England. Plainly, Kelvin still had some way to go if was to be a serious competitor in the family wanking stakes, but was evidently taking his practice very seriously!
From the corner of his eye Wayne had noticed Jason leaning against the wall in a familiar stance, he smiled to himself thinking that the giggling Jason was about to be hoist by his very own petard, not that Wayne would or could ever have used that particular expression. For Jason, standing with legs a little apart and leaning slightly forward with a hand deep in his trouser pocket it was an all too familiar position and instantly recognised by Wayne as generally adopted when in need of hand relief, typically in the playground or whilst waiting for a bus.
“Wanking, Jase yer don’t know?” Wayne grinned as he pointed to the open fly and rapidly moving arm which emerged from the torn pocket lining and then disappeared under the elasticated side of the paisley briefs. “Then wot yer doing now then?”
“Oh shit… me zip!”
Jason turned a brilliant shade of red and was about to make a dash for the door just as Kelvin seemed to reach heights of ejaculation, the pull was too strong and though very embarrassed he just had to stay and watch. Moaning in a state of total ecstasy, Kelvin appeared to lift himself into the air and then return with an enormous thud to fall back on the steeply sloping bed. It was no real surprise to see that the shock snapped one of the side members allowing him to roll very unceremonially off the mattress and onto the floor, his jerking cock spraying semen all around as he fell.
“Jesus, Kelv, yer got a bloody gert big ‘un ain’t yer!” exclaimed Wayne without thinking twice on being confronted with Kelvin’s throbbing, spitting appendage.
“Fuck! Fuck! No.. don’t fucking look! No!” cried Kelvin, horrified that his father was taking such an interest in his cock, he unsuccessfully tried to cover himself with his hands but succeeded in only covering everything with semen instead.
“It’s alright, I’m yer dad, I only wants a bloody peep at it!” Wayne bent down to take a closer look yet not really sure if he should be doing that at it at all, nevertheless he was very intrigued to see just what his son had. “Gawd, yer’ll a lucky boy, that’s a gert big ‘un innit! Yer’ll be making some babies with that gert thing won’t yer!”
With his hand still in his bottomless pocket, the bright red Jason had sidled over for a closer look and found he couldn’t take his eyes off it either, finally he knelt down by his father wondering if when he was fifteen he too would have such a weapon.
It was though Wayne who was about to really stun both the boys. Being probably one of the most hands-off father’s around he suddenly did a most uncharacteristic and very surprising Wayne type thing. He put one hand on Kelvin’s shoulder and then grabbed at Jason’s hot spunky hand with his other.
“D’yer knows yer two’s me favourite little wankers!”
Kelvin sounded dazed, it was an event unheard of in the Twerks manual of paternal bonding, for bonding just didn’t happen. Used to his mother showing some emotion despite her constant nagging, he just couldn’t recall the last time his father seemed remotely father like and genuinely didn’t know what to do or say.
Jason was equally confused and looked blankly around not at all sure how to respond since the boys were far more used to being told to piss off, get another can of lager or find some more cigarettes! Jason’s answer was to do something equally unheard of, he stood up, put his arms around Wayne’s neck and kissed him, then immediately ran back to his own room not really sure what he had done, his jeans finally falling around his ankles as disappeared down the landing.
“Dad…” mumbled Kelvin and then dried up for even on a good day he would not have known what to say either, instead he dragged a corner of a sheet over to cover his now sagging cock.
“Wot a silly little bugger he is, getting all bleeding sloppy like that!” having now thoroughly confused himself Wayne blinked and purposely looked away from Kelvin towards Jason’s bedroom. “Oh shit!”
Kelvin’s voice almost cracked, he was still stuck for words. He rubbed his eyes, what was happening to him? What was happening to his father, was he finally becoming the father that he had heard some of the other boys at school had? Would he be actually doing father like things with them as others did?
“Look I don’t want yer getting all bloody sloppy neither, so, so.. don’t yer bleeding start crying or nothing like that stuff… ‘cause.. well ’cause yer’ve made enough bleeding mess as it is!” Wayne faltered, the situation was new and beyond him, he continued to blink. “Oh.. sorry kid, I don’t know wot the fucks happened tonight… uumm.. wot with saying all that stuff and that.. uumm.. oh fuck!”
“It don’t matter dad,” Kelvin reached over with an even spunkier hand than Jason had and took his fathers hand, “‘cause we knows that yer, uumm.. uumm… well loves us and, and we knows we’re little sods, but..”
“Right, well yer’ve said it yerself, so now just bloody shut up and, and,” he paused and started again trying sound in command, “and uumm, look yer go and sleep in with Jase tonight in that spare bed and we’ll sort all this shit out tomorrow, right?”
“Right,” it was easier to agree than try to voice his feelings, “so’s wot about mum?”
“Don’t worry about her, she’s always shouting about something anyway’s ain’t she?”
“I ‘spose, yeah. Yer gonna tell about this?” he looked at the broken bed. “And me…”
“She’s cleaned up yer spunk since you was eleven so I don’t think she wants to knows nothing more about yer wanking do she?” he suddenly grinned. “Hey, yer knows I was just like yer is don’t yer, I couldn’t leave it alone nor could me brother!”
“Oh! No, no’s I didn’t.” Kelvin blushed, somehow it didn’t seem right for his father to be telling him that. “Wot d’yer means uncle Craig?”
“Yeah, us was always at it! Anyway’s, I ‘spect if yer gonna be sharing with that randy little sod tonight he’ll have yer doing it later with him won’t he? So just don’t break any more bloody beds and keep the bleeding noise down when yer do!”
“Yeah, alright, now just don’t bleeding well keep going on about it, ‘cause I knows I’m a real shit father and don’t do nothing, but I, I..” for a moment he paused and looking rather distracted he finally managed to smile. “so, so… tidy up this spunky mess up then if she do come up at least she won’t bloody stick to nothing!”
Leaving Kelvin clutching his shrinking organ under the stained sheet and wondering what had happened to his father, Wayne returned to the smoke filled living room.
“D’yer sort the little buggers out then?” shouted Doreen above the television. “It’s that Kelvin, he been wanking again ain’t he, I knows he is! He don’t never stop!”
Composing himself, Wayne nodded and headed for the television wanting to turn the volume down. “Now I can hear yer, so’s wot d’yer just say?”
“I said, it were that Kelvin at it again wunnit?” repeated Doreen at much the same volume having been temporarily deafened by the noise.
“Yeah, he do it all the time and his bed just fell to bits, it were old though wunnit?”
“Was he at it again then?”
“Wot’s mean?” asked Wayne mischievously knowing full well what she meant.
“Yer knows.” she made a certain gesture with her forefinger and thumb.
“Oh him wanking? Well, yeah, he do it all the bleeding time don’t he?”
“Well course he bloody does! Well they both bloody do don’t they! Don’t yer know sod all about yer own kids! That bloody Jase is nearly as bad, his bloody sticky stuffs everywhere’s!” she looked at him and paused. “Yer a bugger ain’t yer, yer just bloody winding me up ain’t yer?”
“Little bit!” he grinned. “Anyhow he’s gonna sleep in with Jase tonight, I’ll have to sort the bleeding bed out tomorrow after work. Wonder if I can nick some bits of scaffold and make him a bed he can’t break!”
“Oh God, so they’s in together tonight, then nobody’ll get any sleep then, ‘cause they’ll both be at it all bloody night won’t ’em!”
“‘spose so, but if they’re at it, then they’s won’t hear us will they?”
Wayne had become fully aroused by the thought of his boys carrying on just as he had when he was their age. Unashamedly he pushed his hand down the front of his jeans to feel the hardening eight inches destined for Doreen and it wasn’t even Friday night!
“Ooh Wayne!” her eyes lit up.
Feedback is the only payment our authors get!
Please take a moment to email the author if you enjoyed the story