Maybe if you hadn't had that whiskey." Becky smiled and said "OK, fair enough. Goodnight handsome." I went down to my room and put my bag against the inside of teen the door. There was no lock on the door. I rubbed my cock until I decorated a handtowel and went to sleep. I woke with a banging on the door. John was saying it's time to un-ass that bed. Breakfast was getting cold. I took a 5 minute shower and stumbled upstairs with Fucking pov Girls cargo shorts, a t-shirt and wet hair. Breakfast was set and John told me to dig in. He asked me how I was feeling and did I sleep good. I told him I'm fine but how was he. He asked, did you put me to bed? I told him Becky and I did. He thanked me told me that his drinking was controllable. He just lets loose on the weekends and only on good occasions. He asked me not to worry and after this weekend he probably wouldn't drink again for months. I laughed to lighten the mood and told him that atleast he was a quiet sleepy drunk. When I get drunk, I start thinking I'm a 'Don Juan' but in Hardcore reality I end up looking like a 'Don Quixote'. I hear Becky laughing behind me and turn around to see her hard cock standing behind me holding a laundry basket. She is dressed to impress. Her hair is curled, she has long dark eyelashes that couldn't be real. She had makeup around her eyes, cheeks and her lips were dark red. Her makeup was slutty but it was obvious she had put in a lot of effort. Her laundry uniform was skimpy. She finally let go and leaned back with our combined deposits almost entirely covering her body. On first being pushed into our holding cell Tasha lay curled up into a ball, weeping in her slave’s wrap. Tom stared with Hardcore great interest. A few minutes later he entered the kitchen to find her kneeling beside his chair, legs wide spread opening her wet dripping pussy, hands behind her, and eyes down. Something more satisfying than a boy to fuck. "Shit, I forgot to bring any clean underwear with me," hard cock I said looking for sympathy. Pauline is right, last night’s microwave curry was two weeks after its sell by date and I sit on the toilet. She wanted to know when Fucking Girls she would have the company of the owner of the house but refrained from asking as it would give an otherwise teen impression of her. It is not a good sign when I’m spending more time with you than pov she is. Like, for her. I immediately pictured them breaking up, and myself ending up back at Grandma’s, losing my two awesome bedrooms and all my stuff in them.