pure onyx

Once she’d finally found a good spot, she remembered what she was trying to do. Slowly and steadily, she brought her hand up and over his chest, the light sheet rippling above her the only thing keeping them from the warm autumn night. Again, she brought it down past the end of the hair on his belly and only stopped once she felt that rough patch of hair just above his groin. With only the moon filtering through the sheet above she could barely make it out as she peered over her dad’s waist. Short and curly, much curlier than his armpit hair, pitch-black, though most of his hair was with only a bit of grey poking through.

He extended his control throughout his body, first adjusting his position in his chair, then, while pouring sweat, he lifted himself up and got to his feet. Just standing up straight and remaining upright was a challenge. Back when he first unlocked his clone ability, he remembered having to reacquaint himself with every muscle required for standing and balance, and those first few steps were like all the times he learned to walk as a baby. All that experience was invaluable. Soon enough, he was circling the room, tweaking the awkwardness out of his movements.

I retrieved my bag that had some clean running clothes in it and returned to the master shower. I turned on the water, steaming hot, stripped, opened the glass door and stepped in. I thought at the time it was a nice shower, but I know now it was a typical tract house cubical. I was thankful for the opportunity to jack off, as my cock had been rock hard since Mrs. B’s dress rode up, exposing her lovely thighs when she got in the car. I was just soaping up my dick to get some relief when I was startled by the opening of the shower door. Mrs. B. stepped into the shower, naked, holding a plastic cup. She handed me the cup.