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As my father wasn’t interested in helping out with “woman’s work,” my husband volunteered to help out, and she would drop him off at the airport for a two day business trip that had been scheduled in to our vacation. My mother had grown to be a very proper and subservient wife over the years. It bothered me Brunette that she never stuck up for any of us when my father would begin his ranting and raving when we were kids. While no beauty queen, my mother was reasonably fit for her age, and my husband once joked that there was no doubt where my full tits came from after seeing my mother in a one piece swimsuit around the pool. So we said our goodbyes, and they drove off. I didn’t mind being left at my parent’s house with my father as he and I had long ago learned to ignore each other. As the car pulled out of the garage, I walked into the kitchen wearing white sweatshirt and jeans to find my father reading The Wall Street Journal. No one spoke as I finished up with the morning dishes. The tile floor felt cool under my bare feet. Finally I walked over to the kitchen table to wipe it off, and my father’s only comment, without looking up, was, “Don’t forget the crumbs on the floor.” A sigh and a smirk from me led to his second comment, “You might as well do a thorough job or not do it at all.” Getting just a touch angry I ask him when the last time was he cleaned up after himself. Not looking away from the paper, he responded, “It’s not my job.” Getting more impatient I asked him why he was so special. Big Boobs His predictable response was, “That’s no way for a child to talk to fetish a parent.” I chimed in, “I’m not a child anymore, Lesbian and I’m not afraid of you.” His next comment almost stopped my breathing. “You’re not much of an adult. What adult would sit outside next to her mother and expose herself for the world to see? You act like a child you get treated like a child.” I was embarrassed but still angry. “So I flashed my husband. Big deal! What do you care?” Emotionless he replied, “I don’t. I just doubt you’ll ever grow up. You think a college degree makes you an adult? You are as immature as you were as a teenager. Maybe wearing panties would be a step in the right direction.” Years of frustration had been building up to this moment, and maybe BDSM the earlier alcohol in my coffee complimented the anger with bravery. “You think I’m just a child…you’re the only adult here? Why did you look…why did you keep looking? Did you like what you saw?” Again, with disinterest, “Grow up.” I ran out of the house and spent most of the afternoon walking. By the time I got blonde back, my mother had returned and I helped her unload the car. My parents went to bed around 9 that night; their routine for years being early risers. I sat up in the living room watching television and emptied a bottle of very good cabernet sauvignon, still fuming over my earlier encounter with my father and trying to think of a way to get revenge. It would be nice to somehow put him in his place. After going to my room at the end of the hall, the only bedroom at that end of the house, I was tired and a little drunk. I was worried more about whether or not blonde Sheila was damaged or not than I was about our escape. Fuck. My tongue darted through Mommy's folds. She was a young woman, perhaps in her late twenties. I looked up from my legs and Big Boobs saw the BDSM 3 teenagers in front of me staring at my pussy. NOW!' I would give her that. She broke Brunette our kiss and drew in a breath as he started slowly pressing himself inside her, and she maintained eye contact with me until her eyes fetish rolled back in pleasure. It was Friday so I announced my intention to skip dinner and decided Lesbian to go out to the local pub. “Daisy?” he said, sounding shocked. My eyes fluttered, my breath quickened. “N...not here. "Again, I understand," They both feel her tight maternal pussy spreading and then caressing around his thick, throbbing cock head