I thought my God how can she be so bold and to my dad. My feelings overwhelmed me, almost like I was scared of his reaction. Erica was being relentles... to my dad. She stood there and looked around then asked, "Do you mind if I use this towel." Pointing to the one now covering his wood. My dad thought, taking his time to answer. Obvious to me he was trying to delay Erica as long as he could without making a notion of her evident, perhaps mistakenly exposure. I could see his lips biting down as. "I sat down on the sofa and stared down at her, her eyes were closed now, but she wasn't sleeping. I ran my hands over her still spread and naked legs; then up to her covered bust."Pretty little thing ain't we," I whispered, "likes plenty of cock too."Her eyes snapped open at my comment and she stared up at me."Poor old Toby there, doesn't know what a slut he's marrying," I said."Please," she whispered, "please you mustn't tell him about this." Of course I must, my little slut," I smiled down. "Get in line," she said with a laugh and hurried out.Anna McIntyre was only twenty, fresh out of some girls' school in the West and undoubtedly the best pilot that we had of the four tiny scout planes the Annapolis carried, leftover from an earlier time. They were old but powerful Curtis biplanes, the F9C-2 officially, and without their landing gear they were reasonably fast and very maneuverable, but of course they were quickly becoming obsolete. Anna was on a hefty contract on this our. "What's in this stuff, anyway?" Don't know," Mike admitted. "All Carrie has ever said is that it's based on some sort of German forty-rod that Helga imports from the Black Forest." He laughed, and went on, "There was the year that someone got the bright idea of making the punch out of equal parts of tomato juice and Budweiser, with a little steak sauce and celery juice for seasoning. There was something in that mixture that gives you gas like you wouldn't believe. It was fart city around here.
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