I left Rachel to finish off in the bathroom knowing she would be at least another half an hour getting herself ready. I always left her in peace to do...what ever she had to do in there; we both liked it that way.Rain rattled on the windows of our top floor apartment that looked out over the sea. Another gloomy Bank Holiday! Rain had cut the visibility down to just a mile or so as I pondered what the day had in store. Rachel and I had a table booked at a good restaurant but not being convincing. That is until her dress landed in the back seat,on top of Mine and Billy's clothes,and her panties flew out the window. We were walking through the door again just like earlier this afternoon. She was gripping our cocks and pulling us along behind her when She asked,"Who wants some dessert?" as she laid down on the coffee table and spread her legs. "Billy,go get the can of whipped cream from the fridge. Tory,Hunny. You get the ice cream,a big spoon and two straws." When Billy and I returned. She has a large collection of panties, thongs and stockings, some of them very provocative.Even on days when she doesn't work, she dresses the same way, or even when we go out to dinner, when sometimes as soon as the three of us entered the restaurant, many men would not stop admiring my mother as we went and sat at the table. I never saw my dad bothered by it, or the way she dressed.For sure, my mom loves to be admired by men and also women's to.During my teenage years, as I grew up, I saw. His mother, his father, Jessie, and Mr. Conway. Burned into the space in his mind just behind his eyes was the image of the two large men. Laughing, grinning, even as the blood covered their hands, they smiled their sick smile. Even as he stared at these images, he felt it build. It started low. It started as a mere feeling of desperation. He cried out silently, ‘How can this be fair??’ ‘Why does this have to happen to me??’ ‘Why did God let my Mommy and Daddy die??’ With these question.
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