Trying to hurry, I picked up each of Mommy’s shoes and stuck my face deep into each one, breathing the smell of her sweet lingering sweat. Even though it was still mostly soft, my penis reacted to the emotional self-torment I was reliving. I held one tennis shoe over my head, bringing it down licking and sucking the sole and imagined it was Mommy stepping on my face and making me clean them out on the tennis court after beating me in front of a crowd of people. Cum started dribbling out, not in a full ejaculating orgasm, but in a weak, desperate, resigning fashion and soaking into my cotton underwear. I quickly dropped Mommy’s socks and shoes and ran out of the bedroom, the guilt and shame already flooding back and the worry about being caught. I yanked off my father’s shorts and threw them into the laundry room hamper, then ran to the bathroom and pulled my Dockers back on.By the time Mommy came out I was in the kitchen drinking a glass of water. She was wearing a light summer top,. . only professional she repeated to herself. She was not one who liked to mix pleasure with business. Even though he seemed to blur the line for her when convenient. Something she had a love/hate relationship with. She enjoyed the attention but at times felt cheap for it knowing she wasn’t a source of affection for him. "Jenny, grab a seat over here." He said as he gestured with his hand to the chair in front of him as he leaned against his massive desk. "You look outstanding today. But seriously this is a professional office. I don't want my important clients coming in here and the first impression they get is a whore house. I've told you about Business Attire. That shirt is not close to appropriate." he sternly lectured. He did not use a tone or look of anger, but of disappointment. "I gave you this job out of the benevolence of my heart and you come in here on a very important day with such disregard to one of the simple things I ask of you. Very disappointing." Jenny.
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