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I followed her delightful bottom through to the bedroom and pulled the cover over her, it was close to seven-thirty.
"You stay there," I told her, tucking a strand of hair up and out of her eyes, "I'll go and make breakfast and come and get you when it's ready."
I went back to the bathroom, washed my face and wiped myself all over with a flannel again, then went to make some breakfast. I didn't bother to dress.
I was thinking scrambled eggs, bacon and some toast, juice - obviously, as you do, all on a tray to present to my new lover. I walked down the stairs still starkers and wandered into the kitchen - to find my daughter Becca sitting in the breakfast nook, reading something on her tablet.
Without looking up, she said, matter-of-factly, "You do know the whole house stinks of pussy?"
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