I pulled off the Red, bent down and licked it up. I rolled my tongue over the surface to get all I could. My own cock was still dribbling cum that lan...ed on my boots. I squeezed and then stuffed myself back into my jeans as I watched dad shake his cock and then stick it into his jeans. We were both covered with sweat that glistened in the bright sunlight. I started to pull my t-shirt off. As I was lifting it up over my head, dad grabbed me by the waist and pulled me over tight up against his. Cheryl, my Home Office mole found that a certain Lady Margaret Hunter Phd. Cantab, had attended Parole Boards at Galloway Prison for several years as a consultant in criminal psychology, principally from late 1973 until very recently, just after the quaintly termed 'incident' in question. It was too much of a coincidence; too likely the kind of sophisticated vindictiveness of which I could easily imagine Margaret capable. She'd been the doyenne of clever retribution for wrongs real or imagined,. More

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