Jackie's family lessons!

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I couldn't wait any longer. My bladder was bursting and my father was in the bathroom, halfway through Rigoletto. "Daddy, please get out of the shower so I can use the toilet!" I cried. Both my hands pressed into my crotch to hold back the flood and I trampled about in agony.

"Can't you wait another minute?" Dad loved his showers so much that my mother suspected him of having an affair with the nozzle.

"I have to pee right now!" I cried out. "Just come out for a moment, I won't be long."

"Oh, what the hell, come on in and do it, I'll turn my back," he said. That made sense. After all, he was my father and he'd seen me do everything at one time or another. Now that I was eighteen that familiarity had long passed away, of course, but under the circumstances it was necessary to recapture it. I pushed the door open and walked into the steam-filled room to make my way toward the toilet. So desperate was my need that I hardly spared my father a glance. I assumed he'd have his back toward me. But when I reefed my panties down and squatted over the bowl, and let the first burst loose, I looked up to find him looking right back at me.

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