It was as if I’d died and gone to heaven, one teenager riding my cock and the other tonguing my swollen sack and Kirsty’s hole.“Oh, fucking hell...Dan,” Kirsty moaned. “Still a dirty bitch then? Lick my arse! Rim me while I ride this big cock!”I looked over Kirsty’s shoulder again, down to her backside where our babysitter knelt. She had one hand on each buttock, pulling them apart so she could get to Kirsty’s bumhole more easily. The little brunette on my cock gave a cry that was almost a. Sheila bent down to get something out of the fridge."Okay, breakfast. Scrambled egg, sausage and toast okay? There's a carton of orange juice as well?"As Flanders and Swann described in 'The Reluctant Cannibal', a chorus of 'Yums' ran round the room. Mr Waite's Breakfast Bangers were even better than the fictional 'Roast Leg of Insurance Salesman', and Sheila always did a mean scrambled egg, with just the right amount of butter. Hamish scored brownie points by complimenting the chef; it wasn't. More

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