But it never happened. I'd even gotten into the habit of sitting on the living room floor, after my mother had gone to sleep, wearing nothing but a t-...hirt and panties. I'd sit cross-legged, facing him, my panties always just a bit askew, showing him my hairless pussy. He'd stare and, sometimes, I'd see him rub his cock. When he went into the kitchen for a beer, I'd pop up and stand between him and the refrigerator and, being sure to keep my voice casual (in case my mother could hear), I'd ask,. It didn't help that I'd removed my shirt when I bathed her, so apart from my shorts and slippers, I was near naked too. I tried, I really did, to be chaste in my washing and drying of her but I know I spent more time than necessary on her pert breasts and genitals but I certainly didn't neglect her blisters either even though the gentlest of touches caused her further pain.During the time in the bathroom, our conversation was restricted to monosyllabic instructions and answers but before. More

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