Someone on a horse rides by. I feel her breasts (they're as firm as my ass when my wife squeezed it in the dream kitchen), I kiss her lips. People on horses have gathered around. Some are cops wearing blue and white helmets. They're smiling. It's a show.My daughter is on her hands and knees in the grass; I'm on my knees. It occurs to me we'll come away with telltale green stains. Like rug burns. I lean over—my cock is in my daughter—and ask if she's on the pill. She says no, not anymore. It gives her...psoriasis. Something like that.I fuck her anyway. I decide...I don't give a shit at this point. People are applauding. We're on a wooden stage. In the park. I cum. That's what they've come for. We rise. We bow. They applaud. Our knees are stained green, as if with paint. I look over at my daughter's naked body. It's just like her mother's, 25 years before. Slightly bigger tits, but...The sky is raining something. I raise my face, open my mouth to it. I'm parched after the performance.. My brain kept telling me under those shorts and panties was her warm juicy pussy just made for my cock. We had accidently discovered a few years earlier when we were fooling around in our bed, that my wife was a squirted. Not to suggest she had not climaxed normally because she came quite quickly. But this one night in particular I was playing with her pussy, finger fucking her very hard and suddenly she sprayed like a cat in heat which shocked both of us. Her juice flew out of her a few feet up in the air before landing on the sheets near the end of our bed. From then on it was something we did quite often but not every time we made love. Lisa and I had developed two very different kinds of sex lives. One was the typical romantic, tender love making. But the other was more on the wilder side when our minds and moods were nasty and filled with lust. It was during those times when we were in our naughty mood that I helped her squirt. From the time she took off her top and was hiking.
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