Marie Antoinette and Her Son. an Historical Novel

Sally had told him her mother never came home once she left the house in the afternoon, not until she was staggering drunk early the next morning. Never was the most treacherous word in the English language. "Yeah, my mother," Sally sighed, standing up. "Just let me handle this," she mouthed to Phil. "And don't say a word." With amazing composure, Sally walked directly up to her mother, her tawny tits heaving with a blend of sex-excitement and sheer icy nerve. "You'd better have a seat, you old bitch," Sally told her in a vicious voice. "Because what I've got to say to you is going to knock you on your ass anyway…" *** Two weeks later on a sunny morning, the Jenkins family sat down to breakfast. Sally's ripe lips smiled cheerfully as she stared at her new mother and father, now legally her foster parents. And there was more than just a hint of lewd pleasure in the smile. Last night she'd slept with Marie and her son, Don, while Cindy slept with her father. The night before Sally had slept with Cindy and Phil. And the night before that with Don and Cindy ...»