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09 Ağustos 2023, 01:08
After reading Penelope's note I was devastated. I quickly folded it; slipped it back into the sleeve of the envelope and sealed it shut again, as if I had never opened it. I put it under the welcome mat just to be random, perhaps thinking something under the rug could change the words the next time I read it. But I had seen this all before and knew that it was not like a badly hand written term paper.
Just as I had dealt with one note, another letter came through the door. It's many stamps were colorful and European and it was addressed to me in neat blue ink. There was nothing better than receiving some sort of attention, by whatever means of communication, and I considered peeling open the seal to entertain it's sender, but my heart was blackened by my recent loss. I knew it was from Aunt Fanny's side, perhaps from someone I had never met and had no intention of ever doing so. What could they possibly do to help me anyway?
My daughter had left and that was that. I guess it was the right thing to do, considering she was young and had to go out there and choose one of the many suitors who would be the father to her child. Our child; or rather, my gift to her.
It was more than just a token to remember me by, the only remaining link between us. I kind of wanted her to ring on the doorbell and take me to her room for a session though, just for old times sake. I could pull my pants down and she could watch. As for the sex, in the end we did it just the once, but it was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I imagined my hormones would give it a rest after 40 but it wasn't like that at all. I've always had some sort of object of lust occupying my mind since I was a little boy and when I began to notice Penelope around the house in her figure hugging clothes, I adopted her as my new sex thing. During many one on one fantasy girl dreams, she agreed to be my slave only if I demonstrated my complete dominance over her. It was hard to know how aggressive she wanted me to be exactly, but after successive sessions, I had gotten quite aggressive indeed. Much to the extent that she was hogtied, glazed and had her mouth held open with an apple.
That was a good fantasy, but nothing compared to the real thing. I can still remember squirting the biggest load of cum inside my daughters cunt. It must have shot up like lightning, and filled the tight tunnel with my juice. So much poured out of her pussy it was quite a sight. She just smiled and told me she could not believe her daddy had deposited semen into her, quickly reassuring me that she enjoyed being filled like a twinkie. She rubbed her oozing cunt against my thigh like she was trying to fuck it and my leg squirmed to help spread her lubrication over a greater surface area. She licked it all off while I watched, her eyes never once leaving mine. I could tell she was ready for more and I wanted to cry because I was damn well exhausted. She fell asleep and that was that.
I let the months roll by in a house that was twice my age and it still felt young. Yes, under the weight of my feet, the steps ached and by the aid of the wind, the walls groaned, but like me and my dick, it also had the feeling of being under served. Many rooms were hardly ever used, not since I was running through them all, trying to find the best places to hide, and that was a long time ago.
I was still a horny old man, but my mind was not best left alone for too long before it became unstable. I wasn't a man who ever had any hobbies as such. Normally such types of personalities are driven by one sole aim, such as a family orientated man who existed only for his family, or a sportsman who trained every day in preparation for the weekend game. If you were to remove the very thing they focussed on, they would fall harder than most. Luckily, my main focus was myself. Apart from sex, nothing really interested me.
I always assumed I was 9 inches but I had never really took the time out to look for a ruler or measuring tape. I had always been a bit shy in public urinals, opting to take the vacant cubicle instead. Men did often look over at each other, and size, well - it mattered.
My well hung penis was a beast but I could not help but feel it has been seriously under served, like the near unspoilt parts of the house. My dead mother never got any while she had the chance. I mean, the opportunity was always there while she was at the height of her pomp in her late 30's. I was 17 and embarrassed about the flared trousers she would make me wear, because the fabrics made for a loose style, that did not fare well with the particulars stuffed inside my under wear. All too easily I was liable to react to the most unusual things at the most unfortunate times. One time my aunt, Fanny, sat across from me one evening and told me about the history of lemons. She spoke at length and I swear I could smell citrus permeating from her body.
"Vanille Citrique my dear." She explained of the strong scent that hit me when she waved an arm over my head.
I'm not sure when I became her 'go to' guy, but Karagümrük Escort (https://www.pompaci.net/istanbul/karagumruk) I learned one thing, and that was, never to elude to others to what extent you were paying attention, because it only got me into the kinds of situations I worked so hard to get myself out of. All the cousins called her Funny Fanny, but she had another side to her that only I got to see. Like my mother, Fanny was a poser for the camera, always trying to be the main focus in shots. Unlike my mother, Aunt Fanny was curious about the bulge that could often be seen on my pants, ever since she first caught sight of it during our lemon conversation.
I remember smelling citrus and then tasting it at the back of my throat. Next thing I knew I had an erection. Aunt Fanny took it that I enjoyed her story telling and would endeavor to make the next time more memorable.
As I reclined in my chair on a beautiful bright Sunday I wondered how I could have forgotten about my sexual encounter with aunt Fanny. Maybe it was because I was always thinking about my mother. Like every woman, I'm sure she would not have been adverse to putting a big cock to her mouth had the opportunity presented itself. Yet, no matter how much I imagined the scene itself, It just could not match the desire to see it actually happen. It would have been a pleasant surprise for her I'm sure.
I tapped the foreign letter against my arm rest, and broke open the seal. The letter inside was written in German. Luckily, that was one of my specialties. It was from a girl called Anneka. I read the letter but it's words did not sink in. I was already to busy tracing my steps back to a time long ago, when I was in my teens. Thinking about the history of my penis and it's misadventures. Although my mother had seen my dick, she had never given it any attention like I always dreamed.
As it happened, aunt Fanny was the first one to inspect my tool, but it wasn't something that just happened without any warning. For a long time between her visits, I was made to run around, sometimes like a headless chicken, doing little chores for her. I guess I must have liked her because she was always smiling at me and patting my head; making me a willing servant.
She was a good looking woman, kind of like Stephanie Seymour on stilts. Her front was always hard to ignore in that Mary Poppins like dress. She was a lady after all with an aristocratic husband from the British Isles, and dressed like she had money. She was, on the whole, a socialite, who had nothing better to do than visit people and talk about things like sharp tasting fruit. I'm sure she was more complicated than that but I was not privy to Fanny's business in those days or I guess, any other day after that.
"Well, did you pack the hamper?" She said.
"Uh?" I replied standing before her without a clue of what she was saying.
There were no prior engagements with Fanny, nor plans. She just did things on the spur of the moment often forgetting to fill me in completely, and thus leaving me to decipher her language.
"Out by the front Stanley. Quickly." She said ushering me towards the front of the house.
She left me to exchange thoughts with her sister in the hallway, where the sounds of their voices were amplified several fold.
I stepped outside and saw the hamper. Once it was loaded to the back of her car I sat at the back, arms spread out along the head of the seat, pretending like I was an off duty submariner. It was a beautiful day much like this one. When Fanny appeared, she told me to sit beside her at the front because she disliked having anyone positioned behind her. I understood that, since I didn't really appreciate people staring at me while I was trying to eat. I joined her at the front of her imported car and we set off down the road on my first adventure outside the house.
"Your mother asked me to show you where she used to go camping, but we are going to settle in a park somewhere before that." She explained looking over at me. "I hope you don't mind."
"No, I don't mind Aunt Fanny."
the wind was rushing past so quickly, with air pummeling our faces; it was hard to hear her when she spoke, but I had good ears. Fanny wasn't good at concentrating on the road with the way she turned to me every time she wanted to speak.
"Sometimes, your mother likes an empty house. I can't say I blame her."
At that point her hat flew off and she just laughed. At the speed she was going I wouldn't have surprised had her clothes come off too, but then that would have been comical, like something out of a banned x-rated episode of Laurel
Just as I had dealt with one note, another letter came through the door. It's many stamps were colorful and European and it was addressed to me in neat blue ink. There was nothing better than receiving some sort of attention, by whatever means of communication, and I considered peeling open the seal to entertain it's sender, but my heart was blackened by my recent loss. I knew it was from Aunt Fanny's side, perhaps from someone I had never met and had no intention of ever doing so. What could they possibly do to help me anyway?
My daughter had left and that was that. I guess it was the right thing to do, considering she was young and had to go out there and choose one of the many suitors who would be the father to her child. Our child; or rather, my gift to her.
It was more than just a token to remember me by, the only remaining link between us. I kind of wanted her to ring on the doorbell and take me to her room for a session though, just for old times sake. I could pull my pants down and she could watch. As for the sex, in the end we did it just the once, but it was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I imagined my hormones would give it a rest after 40 but it wasn't like that at all. I've always had some sort of object of lust occupying my mind since I was a little boy and when I began to notice Penelope around the house in her figure hugging clothes, I adopted her as my new sex thing. During many one on one fantasy girl dreams, she agreed to be my slave only if I demonstrated my complete dominance over her. It was hard to know how aggressive she wanted me to be exactly, but after successive sessions, I had gotten quite aggressive indeed. Much to the extent that she was hogtied, glazed and had her mouth held open with an apple.
That was a good fantasy, but nothing compared to the real thing. I can still remember squirting the biggest load of cum inside my daughters cunt. It must have shot up like lightning, and filled the tight tunnel with my juice. So much poured out of her pussy it was quite a sight. She just smiled and told me she could not believe her daddy had deposited semen into her, quickly reassuring me that she enjoyed being filled like a twinkie. She rubbed her oozing cunt against my thigh like she was trying to fuck it and my leg squirmed to help spread her lubrication over a greater surface area. She licked it all off while I watched, her eyes never once leaving mine. I could tell she was ready for more and I wanted to cry because I was damn well exhausted. She fell asleep and that was that.
I let the months roll by in a house that was twice my age and it still felt young. Yes, under the weight of my feet, the steps ached and by the aid of the wind, the walls groaned, but like me and my dick, it also had the feeling of being under served. Many rooms were hardly ever used, not since I was running through them all, trying to find the best places to hide, and that was a long time ago.
I was still a horny old man, but my mind was not best left alone for too long before it became unstable. I wasn't a man who ever had any hobbies as such. Normally such types of personalities are driven by one sole aim, such as a family orientated man who existed only for his family, or a sportsman who trained every day in preparation for the weekend game. If you were to remove the very thing they focussed on, they would fall harder than most. Luckily, my main focus was myself. Apart from sex, nothing really interested me.
I always assumed I was 9 inches but I had never really took the time out to look for a ruler or measuring tape. I had always been a bit shy in public urinals, opting to take the vacant cubicle instead. Men did often look over at each other, and size, well - it mattered.
My well hung penis was a beast but I could not help but feel it has been seriously under served, like the near unspoilt parts of the house. My dead mother never got any while she had the chance. I mean, the opportunity was always there while she was at the height of her pomp in her late 30's. I was 17 and embarrassed about the flared trousers she would make me wear, because the fabrics made for a loose style, that did not fare well with the particulars stuffed inside my under wear. All too easily I was liable to react to the most unusual things at the most unfortunate times. One time my aunt, Fanny, sat across from me one evening and told me about the history of lemons. She spoke at length and I swear I could smell citrus permeating from her body.
"Vanille Citrique my dear." She explained of the strong scent that hit me when she waved an arm over my head.
I'm not sure when I became her 'go to' guy, but Karagümrük Escort (https://www.pompaci.net/istanbul/karagumruk) I learned one thing, and that was, never to elude to others to what extent you were paying attention, because it only got me into the kinds of situations I worked so hard to get myself out of. All the cousins called her Funny Fanny, but she had another side to her that only I got to see. Like my mother, Fanny was a poser for the camera, always trying to be the main focus in shots. Unlike my mother, Aunt Fanny was curious about the bulge that could often be seen on my pants, ever since she first caught sight of it during our lemon conversation.
I remember smelling citrus and then tasting it at the back of my throat. Next thing I knew I had an erection. Aunt Fanny took it that I enjoyed her story telling and would endeavor to make the next time more memorable.
As I reclined in my chair on a beautiful bright Sunday I wondered how I could have forgotten about my sexual encounter with aunt Fanny. Maybe it was because I was always thinking about my mother. Like every woman, I'm sure she would not have been adverse to putting a big cock to her mouth had the opportunity presented itself. Yet, no matter how much I imagined the scene itself, It just could not match the desire to see it actually happen. It would have been a pleasant surprise for her I'm sure.
I tapped the foreign letter against my arm rest, and broke open the seal. The letter inside was written in German. Luckily, that was one of my specialties. It was from a girl called Anneka. I read the letter but it's words did not sink in. I was already to busy tracing my steps back to a time long ago, when I was in my teens. Thinking about the history of my penis and it's misadventures. Although my mother had seen my dick, she had never given it any attention like I always dreamed.
As it happened, aunt Fanny was the first one to inspect my tool, but it wasn't something that just happened without any warning. For a long time between her visits, I was made to run around, sometimes like a headless chicken, doing little chores for her. I guess I must have liked her because she was always smiling at me and patting my head; making me a willing servant.
She was a good looking woman, kind of like Stephanie Seymour on stilts. Her front was always hard to ignore in that Mary Poppins like dress. She was a lady after all with an aristocratic husband from the British Isles, and dressed like she had money. She was, on the whole, a socialite, who had nothing better to do than visit people and talk about things like sharp tasting fruit. I'm sure she was more complicated than that but I was not privy to Fanny's business in those days or I guess, any other day after that.
"Well, did you pack the hamper?" She said.
"Uh?" I replied standing before her without a clue of what she was saying.
There were no prior engagements with Fanny, nor plans. She just did things on the spur of the moment often forgetting to fill me in completely, and thus leaving me to decipher her language.
"Out by the front Stanley. Quickly." She said ushering me towards the front of the house.
She left me to exchange thoughts with her sister in the hallway, where the sounds of their voices were amplified several fold.
I stepped outside and saw the hamper. Once it was loaded to the back of her car I sat at the back, arms spread out along the head of the seat, pretending like I was an off duty submariner. It was a beautiful day much like this one. When Fanny appeared, she told me to sit beside her at the front because she disliked having anyone positioned behind her. I understood that, since I didn't really appreciate people staring at me while I was trying to eat. I joined her at the front of her imported car and we set off down the road on my first adventure outside the house.
"Your mother asked me to show you where she used to go camping, but we are going to settle in a park somewhere before that." She explained looking over at me. "I hope you don't mind."
"No, I don't mind Aunt Fanny."
the wind was rushing past so quickly, with air pummeling our faces; it was hard to hear her when she spoke, but I had good ears. Fanny wasn't good at concentrating on the road with the way she turned to me every time she wanted to speak.
"Sometimes, your mother likes an empty house. I can't say I blame her."
At that point her hat flew off and she just laughed. At the speed she was going I wouldn't have surprised had her clothes come off too, but then that would have been comical, like something out of a banned x-rated episode of Laurel