South Indian Aunty Having Affair 2

My father is a drunk. He’s also a show off, especially when his poker buddies are around. I mean, it didn't bother me. Not really. Not for years. Sure, I used to be upset about his drinking and I used to get really upset about the gambling until he got control of the impulse. When I was 7 or so he started gambling with pennies and quarters rather than the larger sums of money he used to play with. I figured a playful pat on the rump here and there wasn’t such a bad price to pay for his relative control in the money department. Maybe I’m being too easy on myself. Maybe I'm painting him as a bigger monster than he really is. The petting didn’t start out of nowhere, after all, but it did start small. When my body started to develop beyond the body of a child, around 12, he would call attention to it in front of his friends at the Saturday poker game at our house. “Hey Johnny,” or Billy, or Tommy, or Shane, whoever the the card player sitting next to him was. He’d take a long pull on his. She took it down, lapping and swallowing, sliding the sweet creamy fluids thirstily into the narrow cave of her throat, chewing gently upon the dripping knob to bring forth more. Glynn thought that his backbone was turning to water, or to more cum, and that she would suck him completely dry. He didn't give a damn if she turned him inside out, if his balls shriveled up and fell off. It was so far out, such a crazy, groovy sensation that he turned weak and his legs fell away from her shoulders. When his feet hit the carpet with a thump, his mother seemed to come back from some far and ravenous place. With a final licking of his cockhead, she lifted her face and let the bulb slip wetly from her smiling lips."Was it wonderful, dear? Did it just tear you apart?" Glynn couldn't trust his voice not to squeak, so he nodded, his head kind of loose and rolling on his neck. She kissed his flinching belly and drew her tongue up his chest; then, leaning into him and pulling his face down to hers,.
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