I walked back in the sunroom and closed the door behind me. I readjusted my hard on so it was more noticeable so Dad might do something about it. But he was passed out in his chair. His beer can was laying in a small pool of beer on the floor. His cock was still raging hard under his flannel pajamas though. In a quick loud voice I said “Hey Dad.” He didn’t move. I moved in front of him and shook his leg, he just breathed loudly, he was out. I moved my hand down my pajama bottoms and rubbed my balls as I contemplated my options, curiosity and Hornieness slowly took over and I knelt down in front of my Dad. I freed my hand from my ball sack and slowly moved it over Dad’s large bulge. His breathing changed a little, but he didn’t sir. I got a bit bolder and untied the drawstring and pulled his pajamas ever so slowly over his cock. He was going commando just like me. Like father like son, I guess. My heart raced just knowing that at any moment he was going to wake up and catch me. But at. “Dried what?” said she innocently. “What I saw you drying when you came from the closet.” She turned away without saying a word.A day or two after as she went upstairs to the parlour, I stopped, saw her legs, and told her she had jolly fat legs. She wished I would go upstairs, for I was in the way with my chemicals, and after that ceased talking to me. But it was difficult to avoid me, I got rude, would tuck my coat between my legs, laugh and make believe to stoop down to see her ankles, but she took no notice. Begging her to kiss me one day; she gave me two or three at once saying, “There now, go on with your chemicals”, in such a motherly way, that it mortified me excessively; making me feel the difference in our ages, as a barrier to my hopes.But if discouraged one day, I got courage the next; impelled by a cock-stand, and my mother being out, I said, “Should I not like to see your legs.” For a wonder she answered, “Look at your own.” “Oh I” I replied, “they are not the same, you.
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