Teary and pleading. He was getting harder, and bigger, and hotter, and it was getting clearer that he wanted me. “Daddy”, I began, “things are about to change around here, and you have to agree before we go any further.” He nodded, without taking his eyes from my glistening, pungent, young labia. We stayed out late, and we did the dirty for awhile (to the limited extent that Bennett knew how to do the dirty) at the apartment of his older brother (I even let them take turns on me, and STILL wasn’t satisfied). Then that second passed, and I asked again, looking deep into his eyes: “Dad, do we have an agreement?”
As if hoping for enlightenment or divine intervention or reassurance or something, he glanced back at the filthy, lewd beaver that was continuing to blossom and moisten before him, paused, and nodded.
