But she still hadn't touched her mouth to his cockhead.George placed a hand behind her head and tugged, pulling her face into his groin. But she turne... away, so that his cockhead brushed her cheek instead of her lips."Jesus--suck my cock, Sis!" he groaned."Ummmm--I want to. It looks so fucking delicious," she murmured, her lips brushing against his balls as she spoke. Her gaze lifted."Can I visit the animals afterwards?" she asked.George frowned. What the hell did she want to see the animals at. Pippa has told me all about you; I've got your Bacardi and bitter lemon all ready."She spoke in a West Country accent which was not far removed from Wurzel's Somerset burr, but I recognised it as a Bristol accent. (One of my better 'Uncles' had come from where he called ' Bristle') The lighting in the kitchen was rather dim; low wattage bulbs had replaced the usual 60 watts, and there was a tape of Country and Western music playing. It was not my favourite sort of music but it went well with. More

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