He closed the door and locked it slowly.‘It wasn’t enough, you said?’ he questioned so calmly as he unbuttoned his shirt.‘No, it wasn’t. I a... so sore. I want you to give it to me hard,’ I answered shyly as I sat on his desk.He tossed his shirt away and took off his jeans. He was so relaxed and yet I was burning up inside. I wanted to feel his dick in me and wanted him to screw me so hard.Suddenly, he pulled me to the edge and pushed his books off the desk. He stuck his tongue in my mouth and. His emotions surged."Uncle Bob!" she chided. "Such a potty mouth! You can't say that. I didn't say anything about doing that, Uncle Bob. I don't think I'm quite ready for that yet."The "yet" in her sentence ignited something deep in Bob Masters, something primal that interpreted "yet" as a promise of things to come "later." The stab of elation/anticipation that speared into his groin blew the doors off the sperm bank, and a thick rope of semen leapt from the tip of his penis to land on her left. .. I am ... with child.”Two pairs of green eyes widened on her. The Laird’s smug, Samuel’s overjoyed. Her husband lost his tongue, but stood to hug her tight, emotion overflowing him.“Well-done, son.”“As if he did it by himself,” defied his wife.“I did not know what I was saying when I stated I was the happiest man alive,” Samuel managed. “Only now do I get the full meaning of it.”“Congratulations to both,” The Laird amended.“She wants to keep her position until the babe is due,” Samuel told. She spoke to an attendant and motioned to my camera. He nodded and unlocked a chamber that lead to a narrow, steep, winding staircase. With her in the lead we ascended the stairs. I purposely fell back a step or to to enjoy the view up and ahead of me. Each alternating step she took gave me a different view of thigh, ass, and pussy. Once we got to a brick encased balcony, she pointed palm up at the view, Then noticed the raging bulge in my pants, and looked at me questioningly. I read her.
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