His sixteen-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Em (short for Emma), entered the kitchen as Matt finished his cereal, perched on the high stool by the breakfast bar. She exchanged a sly glance at her father and proceeded to get a dish from the cupboard. He could see that her short cotton nightdress did little to hide her rounded bottom. When she bent over to retrieve the milk from the fridge, she put her winking pussy on full v...

Friday mornings were never the same after that first time. Matt would get out of bed with his wife, sit with her for breakfast, kiss her goodbye at the door and watch her drive to the station so that she could catch her train to London. It was all a pretence; he wasn’t being the loving husband in the slightest; he was making sure the coast was clear. Very clear. He would leave it for five minutes to make sure Sandra hadn’...