After the newly converted-to-sex daughter Peggy left for home, it was back to just me and horny ole Helen romping in her boudoir every day or so. Peggy stayed around long enough to have my baby-making sperm fill up her still fertile, egg producing womb. She wanted to have another child, and Grandma Helen wanted another grandchild. Helens other child, a son a few years older than Peggy, was as gay as Hollywood hairdresser and was not about to populate the earth anytime soon. So, I was the sperm donor designate, as well as the hunky guy to sex-up Peggy as her mother Helen taught her a bit more of how to attract other cocks to meet her needy pussys desires. We spent a lot of time together in bed for two weeks under Helens watchful whorehouse madam-like supervision. When Peggy had to get back home to work, and figure out her new life with impending child, Helen and I just went back to our senior love nest life on the beach. I was beginning to think I might just like to quit work up North and stay here, but I wasnt sure how to make the finances work. Helen was generous, but not real wealthy.
Description: A young versatile university PhD professor is tired of being the object of derision as the pocket protector guy. When offered an opportunity to join a unique company, he takes a chance and enjoys the transition.
Jean, his mothers younger sister, arrived at the house bright and early on Saturday morning.
Helen woke up slowly with the sum streaming through her bedroom. She
Lets go Alex, we are going to hit traffic if we leave much later, my moms voice grating on me like nails on a chalk board.
I can not endure another night alone! echoes across the world as desperate cries of pain, originating from within the sterile white walls of small apartments everywhere.
Club Glitter was famous for its bumping electro house and booming bass, but the split level club was perhaps even more famous for its bomb bitches. Here the illuminated dance floors with the fast, pulsing music werent just a place to dance, it was an arena, a battleground for dominant futanari to show off their moves, as well as put their latest boytoys on display as part of the never ending battle of one-upmanship and material dominance.
It must have been about 7 PM when I walked in the door. My job had kept me a little longer than normal, and the Friday night traffic was imposable. I must have startled her when I called out, Hi honey, Im home.
Friday evening, the first week of June and I was totally relaxed. I’d met a friend for dinner and a drink or two and had gotten home around nine. Now, I was sipping a bit of Maker’s Mark, rocks with just a splash of water while I enjoyed the quiet. It had been an eventful week, Joanie my eighteen year old daughter had graduated, graduated with a 3.96 GPA, not quite valedictorian but second in her class and I was so damned proud.