‘But what about Pippin Mummy?’ whined Daisy, her bright blue eyes already welling with tears.

‘And Dubs?’ asked Oliver, looking anxiously at Robina.

‘They will stay here, don’t you see, ‘ said Robina, cooking at the Aga. ‘It will be alright, you and Daisy will be able to come and ride the ponies as usual.’ ‘I’m still not sure about it, ‘ grumbled Mark as he entered the kitchen, glancing at Daisy who was perched on the table. Her knees were grubby with mud and some straw was still attached to her tartan skirt hem. As he passed her, he thrust her baseball cap on her lap and she smuggled it into her lap with a little gasp of thanks. He wiped a slimy smear from her cheek and gulped thankfully, thinking he was getting too blasé about things.

‘Oh Mark, Look - we’ve accepted the offer and it suits us both. You want to get back to town life and the children will be better at one school. We can’t spend hours transporting them to hundreds of schools in the area, ‘ said Robina testily.

‘Hundreds!’ Mark exploded. ‘The one good school in the area which is in reasonable distance to the new place and let’s us both do the jobs we love, is in Colchester. Not hundreds – one!’ ‘I think it will be perfect. You always said we should be moving on.’ muttered his wife, stirring a home-made soup.

Iona and Wallace dashed into the big kitchen and told them that a big car was coming up the drive. Mark and Robina went outside - followed by three of the five Horrocks children Oliver, 10, Iona, 6 and little Penelope, 2. Daisy and Wallace stayed behind.

‘Daisy, you haven’t any knickers on, ‘ exclaimed Wallace, peering up the gap between the eight year olds legs.

She clamped her thighs together, making her Wellington boots slap and blushed.

‘Er! Oh yes, I had to go peepee in the barn and took them off. They must be still there, ‘ she lied and wondered where the undergarment could be. Mummy and Daddy would be furious, especially Daddy.

Wallace who was eleven - left her to go to his room. Daisy slid off the table and popped into the downstairs toilet of the huge old converted mill that was soon to be vacated as the Horrocks country home. She found a jar of moisturiser cream and flicked some gently onto her little pussy, which did look quite red. It certainly was sore, but this was her fault for not replenishing the cream on the shelf in the barn. She remembered as she arrived at the top of the ladder and everything got started so she put up with it – not for the first time. The voices swelled outside and she tore upstairs and pulled on a clean pair of dainty pink edged knickers, then put the money from her shirt pocket into the special hiding place before joining the family and their guest downstairs.

‘So you’re a publisher Mark?’ boomed Jon Deloine, placing his coffee mug on a table. ‘Any thing I would have read?’ ‘Not unless you’re into technical journals on science, ‘ Mark chuckled exposing his slightly protruding top teeth. ‘I do publish work by Robina also. She’s a medical writer and does freelance for various companies and I usually get to publish those too.’ ‘He does stuff for my sister too, but that’s a different market and oodles more lucrative isn’t it darling?’ said Robina slyly, glad she hadn’t worn a bra today. She had her reasons and shuffled forward on the chair. Her big breasts wobbled.

Mark glared at her and she grinned cheekily back at him. Jon didn’t respond, although he watched her boobs bob about and asked where their offices were.

‘We both work basically from home, so location is not important for that, but the schooling is, ‘ said Mark waving his hand across the five obedient, quiet children.

Deloine’s dark eyes scanned over the handsome blonde brood, noticing Robina’s quite dark red hair and Mark’s balding blonde pate. Robina almost swooned when Jon grinned happily at her. She had been told by the estate agent’s secretary, who she had got to know quite well, that the buyer was a handsome black man, but this was exceptional. His truly handsome, but pugnacious black face framed by the shock of curly black hair in retro Afro style, seemed to put him in the 70s but she knew he was a very wealthy PR man with fingers in many of the media pies. Little did she know that when he had left his apartment in London that morning, it was still occupied by a blonde member of a top five piece singing group who had felt his finger as well as his average sized dick in her pie all night.

‘What business are you in Mr Del ... er Jon, ‘ she asked, correcting herself as Jon frowned at her intention to use formality. He leaned forward to answer her and she saw the bulge of his balls - shielded by finely woven fashionably loose cotton slacks, slide over the edge of his chair. Another well hung coloured guy, she mused, harking back to her college and university days when she sought them out and shagged them. She had at least got Jon’s well hung description correct with regard to his testicles. They were huge and balanced out some females disappointment when unveiling his seven thin inches.

Bored and excused - Iona took Penelope outside.

‘Pop music mostly Robina, ‘ answered Jon, immediately noticing Daisy’s eyes light up and smile. ‘I produce bands, find them, promote them, all sorts.’ He nodded pointedly at Daisy’s unconcealed excitement and Mark laughed.

‘ She wants to be a pop singer. Honestly - these kids, ‘ he added airily.

‘ Can we still come and ride our ponies Mr Deloine?’ asked Oliver earnestly.

‘ Ollie, ‘ growled Mark.

‘No worries, Mark. Yes of course you can Oliver. There’s no way I will bother you or vice versa with all that paddock and stables out there. In fact I thought you might be able to help me set it up as a stable or stud or something that suits, ‘ said Jon.

‘Daisy rides Pippin and my pony is Dubs, ‘ said the lad defiantly as his father scowled.

‘They will come over with one of us, Together most times but sometimes just one of them, ‘ said Robina. ‘We’ll always let you know of course.’

At that moment, little Iona wandered through clutching a not too happy duck. She walked purposely towards Jon and he didn’t know where to look as the child had obviously scooped up the agitated Mallard together with her blue denim smock. The family couldn’t see what he could which was the little girl’s puffy quim as she stretched the material upwards in her effort to support the fat fowl.

‘This is Marigold, ‘ Iona lisped at Jon. ‘We are taking her with us.’ ‘Yes of course my dear. I can see she means a lot to you, ‘ said Jon.

Iona turned round triumphantly just as Robina was uttering her name in embarrassment at the way the child had walked straight through the conversation. Her tone changed dramatically.

‘Iona!’ she spluttered, seeing the child’s exposed thighs and bare under belly.

Robina dashed forward and grabbed her second youngest and ushered her to the back door at the same time sorting out her dress with chastising comments to be more careful.

‘She’s left her knickers off again – honestly!’ exclaimed Robina to Mark, who tutted and shook his head.

The incident was laughed away and the house was toured yet again, the buyer remaining enthusiastic over the odd problem areas of the building and the mill stream. The children gradually lost interest and scattered leaving the adults to discuss exchange dates, fixtures and fittings and all the ramifications of moving house. Daisy went to the barn and frantically hunted for her lost knickers. She went up to the loft and saw Mark’s body warmer on top of a straw bale. The khaki coloured sleeveless garment was searched and she found a tin of tobacco, an empty brown envelope with scribbles on it, some keys and a crumpled up still damp tissue, but no tiny panties.

She got to the yard as Jon was leaving. Mark had gone to answer the phone. Robina was leaning against the 4 x 4 SUV, smiling at the tall black man, not really listening to his glowing comments about the property and thinking she would revisit her early sex desires once they settled in town. Not many black guys lived in the Suffolk villages surrounding the old mill. Mark had strangely gone off sex with her over the last two years, for which she blamed herself after Penelope’s difficult birth and lengthy breast feeding. She was also irritated at the way the gusset of her blue French knickers had infiltrated her hairy crack and was being munched every time she moved. This brought home the fact that she was quite damp down there too.

Daisy hung to her mother’s dress, testing it’s stitch strength as she tried to peep into the tall vehicle. Jon noticed how Robina’s heavy breasts swelled against her clothing and saw her nipples clearly jutting through the thin cotton. No brassiere he guessed. He liked big boobs and was quite excited about the date he had in the evening, with a notorious blonde Page Three model of tiny intellect but the most enormous silicone enhanced knockers.

‘Daisy, ‘ whined her mother, irritated at the child’s persistence.

With that, Jon stooped and swept up Daisy who giggled delightfully as he thrust her against the window. He felt her firm lithe little body, hot in his enormous hands, her wriggling enough to protest but not to stop his teasing as he swept her back and forth at the car. Mark peered out an upstairs window and grimaced as his phone correspondent droned on. He saw Robina’s fawning gaze and little Daisy’s bright squealing delight. He thrust his hand in his pocket, suddenly realising the significance of what he felt. Sweating with fear - he stared hard down to the yard and thankfully saw to his satisfaction that he had no need to worry.

Daisy wriggled with joy in the safety she felt being thrown about so vigorously by Jon. She squealed as he tossed her, laughing away Robina’s concerns. As he started to put the child down, she continued wriggling and his hand slipped. When Jon tightened his grip, his hand slid between her buttocks and he realised her tiny pussy was resting on his fingers. He felt a strange stirring within, mysterious but not unpleasant, as he lowered Daisy, not able to loosen his grip in case she fell awkwardly. For her part she grinned cheekily up at him and as she felt the ground beneath her feet, she nipped her legs together, Jon’s fingers were momentarily trapped in a warm little vice until she smiled sweetly and scampered round and round the car, telling Robina that she really really liked Mr Deloine and she was going to be a pop star.

‘Look I really must be moving on,” Jon smiled, embarrassed but not noticed.

Jon’s vehicle purred away, leaving Daisy and her mother waving him off. He reached the main road and paused, wondering about that strange sensation that had swept through him when Daisy and he interacted. Why should he get into a lather about an eight year old girl?

Daisy and her mother joined Mark in the kitchen where they combined to clear away the glasses and cups of their hospitality.

‘There’s something about him I don’t feel sure about, ‘ Mark moaned.

Daisy ran off to play.

‘Oh Mark, don’t be such an old cynic, ‘ said Robina drying her hands.

‘His car, typical flash townie posing as a country man. Not a speck of dirt on the damn thing – pah!’ he grunted.

‘Listen to yourself, ‘ Robina chided. ‘What were you like when we moved here? I had to drag you kicking and screaming from the town to live here and you have loved it and all of the children were born here.’ ‘But we’re going back, ‘ Mark said a touch smugly.

‘Yes because it suits us both and more so the children and they can visit here - Jon said, ‘ added Robina, folding clothes having finally finished her sink chores.

Jon said, Mark silently mimicked her sarcastically, behind her back.

He noticed the heavy sway of her breasts and the way she carelessly wiped her sweaty hands down the front of her dress, flattening the huge milkers until they sprang upwards, nipples proud and erect. He licked his lips and thought how – back in their earlier days, he had slavered over them, never having to tease those big teats up, they were always up, even now after five children and at thirty eight years old. Now he had completely the opposite taste.

‘Daisy liked him, ‘ said Robina as a final statement.

Daisy was often used as an arbiter of family law, with her mid age between the other children and her surprising maturity.

‘Something about him – phoney, shifty. I don’t know. Dark, that’s it and I don’t mean his colour, ‘ added Mark cynically.

‘Oh for God’s sake Mark. Dark? What do you reckon - criminal, terrorist, child molester?’ retorted Robina, stooping to unload the washing machine...

Mark shuddered and glared at his wife as she left the kitchen, with an arm full of washing. She was disgusted at his attitude. He watched her stride out into the yard and start to hang the clean washing on the line then went upstairs where he spotted Daisy in her room and entered. She smiled up at him and whispered.

‘Daddy, I’ve lost my knickers. I’m ever so sorry. I put some others on though – look, ‘ she added, pulling her skirt high to reveal her underwear. Her belly was exposed too and her cute little navel peeked out just above the elastic of her pink edged panties. The gentle curve of her vaginal swelling was smooth except for the slight indentation – low down, where her slit had found a way of teasing the cotton material inside it’s tiny opening. She was developing a juvenile camel toe.

Mark gulped and stared as he always did when confronted with such beauty. Not wholly innocent beauty, but charming, thoughtful, caring and exciting beauty all rolled in to one delightfully bright little girl. He put his hand in a pocket and retrieved a little ball of material which he carefully unravelled to show her. Daisy gasped – her face horror struck, but Mark stopped her outburst of intended apologies.

‘It’s alright darling, ‘ he said gently, sitting next to her on the bed. ‘I put them away for safety. It turned out for the best yes?’ ‘Gosh! Yes daddy thank you. You’re so clever. I thought I had lost them and you know... ‘ Daisy stammered. ‘I thought you would be really angry.’ ‘How could I be angry with my little special sweetie, ‘ Mark murmured, cuddling her to him. He put his arm round her and rested his hand on her thigh.

The thrill of contact with such precious young softness always aroused him. Daisy spoke up.

‘I found your jacket up in the barn and looked in it for them, ‘ she said, picking up the knickers, then placing them in a linen basket.

‘Oh yes but that’s alright if someone finds that. I’m often in the barn.’ ‘Mmm!’ agreed Daisy lifting her hemline. ‘Do you want to er... ?’ ‘No thankyou darling. Your pocket money safe?’ He received an earnest nod. ‘I must go and do some work. Take care and be happy. You make me very happy, ‘ said Mark, leaving her room.

Six weeks passed and the Horrocks moved out and Jon Deloine moved into the old mill. Several meetings were held in the interim, between the adults with the occasional accompanying child, mainly Daisy and Oliver if the meeting was at the mill due to their concern about Pippin and Dubs. Jon was kindness itself and endeared himself even more to Robina and Daisy.

After four months of virtually weekly visits to ride, Oliver had negotiated with Jon to allow a friend place his pony at the mill paddocks also. One Saturday - Daisy, Oliver and the new boy Grant, were dropped off by Grant’s mother Caroline, who was quite happy with the hours drive and then to go shopping for antiques in Sudbury all day and pick them up later. Robina and Mark were on a weekend seminar in Harrogate and she was hoping she could revive his sex interest while they stayed in a hotel for two nights. She bought some filmy negligees and some stockings and at his request her fancy dress for the evening function was St Trinian’s School gear.

Robina initially grumbled at the idea but realised it was a throwback to their early college days. He did like the little schoolgirl look even then, but she was not enamoured with the idea of wearing those perennially uncomfortable suspenders. She insisted in retaliation that Mark should hire a Minstrel costume, which wasn’t easy to find. The party was such that any non PC attitudes would be laughed off and she would make him black his face also.

MaryAnne - Robina’s sister, who was looking after the children for the weekend from the Friday afternoon, waved Daisy and Oliver away in Caroline’s car and got on with her erotic novel writing on her laptop. Wallace, Iona and Penelope were visiting their ancient widowed Grandma who was in a care home – she could only deal with three of the children at most, such was her deteriorated state. Uncle Giles - MaryAnne’s husband had taken them and then on to a theme park. MaryAnne was at the stage of introducing a mysterious black man into her novel and had listened avidly to a very detailed description of Jon by Robina. They had giggled secretly as they guessed on his sexual appetite and the size of his dick, just as they had when both of them had fallen for coloured guys in their teens and beyond.

In fact Robina had struck lucky in Harrogate. Mark hadn’t been interested in sex on the Friday evening, feigning tiredness after the drive. Her negligee, stockings and even her school uniform, which wasn’t due on display till the Saturday night, had failed to light his fire and they had rowed and sulked to sleep. The session next morning required them to be in different teams which helped their professional progress on the seminar. He had taken the afternoon option of an excursion to Ripon Cathedral and Robina had herself claimed tiredness. On seeing the coach leave the hotel, she had made a very obvious and successful play for a porter, spotted over breakfast and tempted him to her room. At the precise moment her two offspring had arrived at the old mill, she was in ecstasy.

‘Yes Courtney my little black stud, fuck my arse. Hard, yes, that’s it. Oh! Steady - not all the way in, yes inch it in ... Ooooh yessss, ‘ she groaned as nine inches of fat black dick gradually penetrated her anus.

‘You dirty white cow, ‘ he spluttered, starting to ram at her hairy bum hole.

‘You filthy black bastard, ‘ she spat as her body began to shake with the regular pumping.

‘I’ll show you good nigger cock, ‘ he gasped as he watched his dick go full length inside her turd tunnel.

‘I want nigger cock. Black, hard, fast cock. Give it me Courtney, ‘ Robina spluttered, reaching behind, her head buried in the bed, as she pulled her buttocks as wide as possible in the doggy position.

Courtney Rowles, junior porter aged eighteen rammed at the white woman who had cornered him in the lobby and told him she needed help in her room. When they arrived, she had stripped off her blouse and showed him her big swaying knockers. She had told him she wanted a good shafting and asked if he was up to it. With that Robina had ripped off her trousers and lay back on the bed, opening her legs wide and flashing her wet hairy pussy.

It would have taken a better man than the young black to refuse such an instant offer and although she was obviously not in the first flush of youth, within minutes he was naked and stroking his gleaming black dick into her willing mouth as she teased it up to full stand. After a few minutes of oral, Robina had rolled over and lifted her butt high. He took the hint and shafted her cunt first until he tentatively fingered her sphincter ring. Then they really got dirty.

Oliver, Grant who was twelve and Daisy got on with their regular pony cleaning duties, like mucking out, grooming and tackle maintenance. The boys were well ahead of the much slower but thoughtful Daisy, so they mounted and set off on the normal route for their trek. Jon drove by and saw her diminutive figure all alone, brushing down Pippin. He pulled his car into the stable yard in concerned curiosity. Daisy happily waved to him. As he strode across to her he admired the trim shape of her buttocks tightly encased in the pale, almost white jodhpurs, which exposed a distinct panty line carving across her bum. She bent double and he spotted the horizontal seam of her underwear, where the gusset joined the main garment. Why was he looking so closely? he wondered. She’s a child Jon. But then as she turned when he was no more than two metres away, he saw what he was sure was the clear outline of verdant breast development, captured within a bra under her tight fitting white tee-shirt. No - surely not on a kid of eight, he mused. Maybe just the structure of the brassiere was accentuating the swelling. So what Jon, he reproached himself. She’s only a child. Daisy’s smile knocked him out and brought him to back to earth.

‘Hi Jon, ‘ she said, using his insisted familiarity. ‘How many pop stars have you seen this week?’ ‘Oh only two, ‘ he answered. ‘Will Young and ... well the other’s not a pop star as you would know, but a great guitarist. Hank Marvin? You heard of him?’ ‘Wow! Will Young. I’ll bet he’s gorgeous. My school friends and I dream about him, ‘ she responded ignoring the other name, totally focussed on the UK pop singer who won the hugely popular televised Pop Idols contest.

‘You alone?’ queried Jon, genuinely concerned.

‘No – well yes I suppose. Ollie and Grant have started out. I’ll catch them up ... unless... ‘ she said quizzically.

‘Unless what?’ ‘I do want to be a pop star Jon, ‘ she whined, twisting her body on one foot and gazing up at him with pleading eyes. Her very blonde hair shimmered round her open face like a lace curtain, stopping just short of her shoulders. ‘Can you teach me?’ ‘Well I don’t do it for free you know. I get a cut of your earnings when you’re a star and the training costs lots. It’ll be too expensive on your pocket money my dear, ‘ he chuckled, rubbing his designer stubble. ‘Maybe when you’re older and your daddy says its OK.’ ‘Daddy wouldn’t mind now, ‘ Daisy trilled, knowing he would go ballistic if he knew she was freely talking to this adult on a one to one basis ... Mark had drummed into her some serious rules and to check everything with him first. ‘I can sing and I’ve got the looks, ‘ she continued.

‘I can see that Daisy, ‘ said Jon thoughtfully. ‘And I have heard you.’ ‘Do you sleep with any pop stars?’ she hit him below the belt.

Jon gasped and gulped, his eyes searching beyond the precocious inquirer, his mind in a turmoil on what to answer.

‘My friend Ingrid, says that all pop stars sleep with their managers. Some of them have to, just to keep their jobs, ‘ Daisy added with an air of knowing.

‘No I don’t, ‘ Jon lied. ‘And no they don’t, ‘ he added firmly.

‘Oh I would, ‘ Daisy said airily. ‘I’d do anything to be a pop star.’ ‘Daisy, this is silly and you’re far to young to be bothered about that sort of thing, ‘ mumbled Jon. ‘Get school over first, then we’ll see.’ ‘School is over for the weekend. Why not now?’ she asked petulantly.

‘You know what I mean, ‘ Jon retorted.

‘Ingrid said they use their bodies to get jobs, ‘ she continued. ‘I would use mine ... if I could.’

With that, Daisy flung down the brush full of Pippin’s hair and pulled down her tee-shirt so that it was stretched tautly over her chest. She seemed to be doing it to cure an irritant but the big black man could not take his eyes off her tender young frame. Was there just the hint of breast? He shook his head to clear his brain.

‘Use your body. That’s silly Daisy, ‘ he murmured.

‘Don’t keep saying I’m silly Jon, ‘ she said sulkily. She sucked her cheeks in and frowned. She looked gorgeous Jon thought.

‘I am eight you know, ‘ Daisy continued in a breathless babble. ‘My grandpa said I had a nice little body. He liked it a lot. He bought Pippin for me.’ Jon exploded with surprise. Daisy realising what she had said looked suddenly very shy and bit her bottom lip.

‘Er your grandpa?’ he asked gently, stepping very near and glancing around as if to check on eavesdroppers.

‘I shouldn’t have said that Jon. Never mind. He’s dead anyway but he told me never to say anything.’ Pippin fidgeted, tossing his head and thumping the concrete hard-standing with his foreleg so Daisy took some moments to calm the pony. Jon waited patiently as she expertly dealt with the problem.

‘But you have told me dear Daisy. You have said something. Do you want to get it off your chest?’ he asked quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder as she patted Pippin’s neck. ‘If you see what I mean.’

The little girl peered up at his wise and friendly face which beamed pleasantly down on her near to tears face. She knew she was in a spot and was fearful of the threats another dear person had spelled out to her, just as Grandpa had. The trouble was this one was very much alive and could get into trouble, not like grandpa. Lovely old grandpa, with his white beard, his tobacco stained fingers and moustache and that lovely smell that wrapped him a cosy slippered world which became so much of Daisy’s world. She took a deep breath and gazed up at Jon.

‘If I told you and... ‘ ‘And what Daisy?’ ‘And showed you ... would you teach me to be a pop star?’ she asked in the tiniest of voices.

She shuffled closer to him, until her shoulder was nudging his thigh. Jon felt her touch, heard the cry for help and felt a strange stirring inside, but it wasn’t the stirring of sympathy. It was very close to the stirrings he had when he bedded a very young Welsh singer of prodigious talent who was already famous by she was twelve. At thirteen and a half, he was invited to promote her. The girl proved to be very forward, very ambitious and very attractive with a singers burgeoning breasts. She had been easy to seduce on one of his high sessions on some substances he knew would not hinder his prowess in bed, but would nullify the processes in his mind which yelled at him to not even think about fucking a minor. Surely this encounter with the charming Miss Daisy wasn’t going that way.

‘What do you mean - show me Daisy?’ he asked, giving her an extra hug round her shoulders which drew her into him. Her face was almost level with his trouser belt as she peered up at him meekly. She gulped.

‘Can I see to Pippin first?’ she whimpered.

He nodded and watched her fuss round the animal without pressurising her. She obviously needed to think and had cleverly bought time. Pippin was tethered more securely, given a bag of hay, a bucket of water and patted on the rump. She smiled at Jon and glanced, tilting her head towards the barn. He took the hint and they walked in silence, but somewhat shiftily – all the way checking round them to see if anyone was around. They went into the shady timber edifice that was so familiar to her. She led the way, holding his big mitt of a hand until she climbed a ladder. Jon puffed as he followed her - eyes fixed in the delicious way her bottom undulated as she climbed, worrying about the state of his expensive clothing and high polished shoes. The fact that he was on the way to town had long been put out of his mind – intrigued at this little madam’s curious words.

Courtney collapsed onto Robina’s back as she fell forward, exhausted. They chuckled and he nuzzled the back of her neck. His cock slid out of her arsehole with a greasy plop and he rolled off. Robina turned and he felt her tits.

‘You dirty evil fucker, ‘ she murmured, enjoying the freedom of hard street language.

‘Mature white woman wants young black prick. That was the advert wasn’t it?’ he giggled, plucking her nipple. ‘Downstairs in the lobby? Lucky the boss didn’t see. She’s a fucking lesbian for Christ’s sake. Maybe she would have picked you up you cheap whore.’ ‘Doubt it. I’ve seen the fat old bitch, ‘ chuckled Robina wallowing in the base language. ‘You gotta go soon I suppose, ‘ she asked.

‘Yep. Sorry. I’m on duty remember. I’ll go now, ‘ said Courtney, sitting up and hunting for his uniform.

‘Come here - before you go, ‘ she called him back to the bed.

She made him clamber under her and lowered herself onto his lithe strong body. Her crotch straddled his face. She dipped her head and sought out his flaccid sticky cock and started to suck it. Courtney took the hint and levered his head up and sucked on her hanging labia and particularly her extremely stretched and distended sphincter. They licked each other’s anal sex juice cocktail for a few moments until he patted her butt and wriggled from under Robina. She wiped his genitals and arse with a new pair of panties. They parted soon after with a promise that they would do it again if they had the chance.

The randy wife from Suffolk lazed around naked in her room for a while, after masturbating with a hairbrush, sniffing Courtney on the white silk of her newly soiled underwear. Robina wondered how good a fuck Jon would be, but realised she would have to tread very carefully if she flirted with him. She wouldn’t want to upset the children’s situation with him, especially little Daisy. She was so besotted with the pop star idea, it would be a shame if her mother’s sexual desires spoiled what could be a child’s dream come true. No she mused, I need to plan it very carefully.

Panting slightly, Jon gazed round the gloomy dusty cobwebbed loft, full of bales, ropes, old tackle and farm bits.