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I wondered if history was repeating itself.Or if this time I had walked in on Kay.I started across the living room. There was a trail of clothing down...the hall. Men's slacks. A tie. A dress shirt. There was women's clothing mixed in. Dark slacks and a sweater. There was a pair of boxers and a woman's bra.I didn't recognize the specific items, but I knew they were Kay's. The bra wasn't large enough for Lacy. And the clothes were professional. Lacy's entire wardrobe had a laid back hippie. Harry watched as Alan contracted his asshole and then slowly relaxed it. Some spit oozed out and started to slide down his ass crack.Harry hadn't really realized what a gorgeous, sexy stud his son was. That is, if you looked at him objectively, and not as a father. Objectively speaking--of course!--Harry could see why some disgusting pervert faggot might get the hots for that slender body with the long fat dick; why some sicko might want to eat out that shiny ass pucker and play with his own. More

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