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But he couldn'tquite do it. He couldn't bring himself to jerk off tothis perversion. He wanted to save her, to knock herfather out, and then to have her himself. He just stoodthere, erection in his still hand, watching his dreamgirl being mouth-****d by her father.Finally, the bearded pervert came. Still gripping hisdaughter's head, he pulled her face away from his cock.Mikey saw the cum shooting out of the man's dick.Although he couldn't see Julie's face from where hewas, he knew that her face was getting blasted with herDad's cum. A jet or two missed her face, and Mikeycould see the white fluid running down her back towardthe crack of her ass.When he was done soaking his daughter's face in hiscum, he planted his hands on her tits and pushed herover backwards. Julie fell to her uncarpeted floor, herhead banging painfully down. Her father then turned andleft the room, slamming the door behind him.Julie lay on her back. Her knees were both bent to oneside in an uncomfortable position.. She was aware that Keith's left hand was now resting against the side of her right breast, while his right hand went over her middle.They lay together for several minutes like that, close and warm against each other. Then Keith's left hand began to very slowly moving up and down, brushing against her side, his right thumb also began to move making small circles against her tummy. Heather moved slightly, allowing Keith to shift his left hand more on to her breast.Keith's gentle strokes began to get her aroused. Heather felt her nipples harden as she felt his hands brush lightly over them. Heather really liked how he would slowly get her more and more aroused, just by teasing her breasts. She pushed her head back and over towards Keith and kissed him."Mmmm, Ohhh..." she murmured.Heather felt Keith take hold of her nightie, tugging at it and pulling it up. A minute or so later he eased her nightie up, free of her breasts, she raised her arms up and then he slipped her nightie up and.
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His head ached from the stress of walking on metaphorical eggshells all the time. He was tired from all the running and the sleepless nights spent tossing, wondering why his wife no longer wanted anything to do with him.Camille had spoken to him only when forced in the days since he had returned to the cabin only to get his skull dented by the kitchen door. They'd had a fight, a bad one and he'd promised to let her go.He'd been regretting that promise since the moment the words flew from his mouth. There was no way he was going to be able to keep it. He might just as well cut his own jugular as to turn loose of his only reason for living.She was giving him no cause for hope, either. Camille kept to herself, locked away in her room for hours on end. The only time she came out was when she was sure that he wasn't around. What little he'd seen of her only told him how much she was suffering inside. She was growing thinner, paler with each passing day.He had brought food to her, even.

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