It all began one day when I saw my Dad naked. He had just gotten out of the shower and he didn't quite close the bedroom door. I happened to walk by and I looked in. Dad was standing there and his long cock was hanging between his legs. I only stood there for a brief minute. I quickly walked to my bedroom and got onto the bed. I pulled my pants and panties down and started to rub myself.
She closed her eyes, the warm sensations covering her swollen nipple was coursing through her body as she felt fingers probing her pussy searching for her clit. A sharp gasp came from her mouth as the fingers found their goal, as satisfied smirk ran across the man's face. His fingers rubbing gently circling the small bud and sending shivers through the woman. He smiled at her response, she was hot, wet and very horny too. She wriggled as a finger slipped easily inside her, forcing her pussy to contract and grip the digit. Slowly he moved in and out as his thumb rested on her clit, his mouth working hard on her nipples. The nipple in his mouth was swollen so hard and thick he had never known any like this woman's before, his tongue swirled as he licked and sucked feeling her arousal growing to a higher pitch.
My mother and father had separated a few years ago, and I'm still getting used to the fact that my mother has recently gotten married. I hate him, and the fact that my mother is now seen as a cougar.
Damian is 36 and my mother is 49 turning 50. I hate Damian, he tries to act as if he is my father but he isn't, and it's getting old. I'm eighteen and they still feel the need to treat me as a child.
I grew up in small-town Michigan, way up in the UP. I liked my humble roots for a variety of reasons. I liked the atmosphere we got on Friday home game nights in the Fall, and the fact that I could typically name most people when going out to pick up groceries for my parents. Everyone knew everyone, and the typical small-town charm shaped my upbringing. Following my high school graduation, I moved to a big city in a neighboring state to go to college. Each summer, I'd come back to live at home, help my parents around the house, and relax as much as possible by any nearby lake. Small towns are good, because even though I might not see neighbors for years, one day I'd see them at the bank, the movie theater, or wherever, and we'd hug and catch up like old times. This included all my friends' parents, whom I had grown very close to over the years. I always felt comfortable to stop by their house to have a chat, grab a free meal, and to talk about what their kids were up to nowadays.
I was nineteen and in my first year of college. I still lived at home with my parents. We didn't have a lot of money so living at home and working part-time while attending the local college had been my best option. At least, I was able to pay for my schooling and contribute a little money to the family budget.