Daddy s Girl
“Henry, I have to get these fucking presents wrapped, honey,” Hilda told her offspring and husband of over sixteen years as she sat on the floor, adorned in a red Christmas sweater that hugged her globular boobs like a glove, making them like the two bottom thirds of a snowman’s body stuffed beneath her garment. The sweater was decorated with a Santa Claus who grinned as he stood atop a chimney, but couldn’t crawl into it because of the crude naked erection that jutted out of his red elf pants....