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Friends have a party.

"I don't see why not," said Dennis, "let's get this shower over with," he went on, as Angela too climbed out and started drying herself, "and then we can get going ..."


Forty-five minutes or thereabouts later, with father, daughter and son freshly-showered and now dressed in clothing suitable for the weather, Brett drove into the rain-soaked hospital grounds, parked the car and climbed out. He helped his father and sister from the back seat, then they entered the modern wing of the hospital and started the long trek down seemingly miles of corridors until they came to the ward where Pamela should now be relaxing with a nice - and free - cup of tea.

They gave their names to the receptionist and were directed to the very same room they had collected Pamela from a few months earlier.

Pamela was sitting in an armchair, having changed back into her own clothes after the operation and sipping her tea, the saucer on a table alongside some magazines and newspapers that were at least two years old. The patch over her right eye was enormous, just as the one on her left had been two months or so earlier, covering the whole of that side of her face. Once again, Pamela looked like she had just returned from a war zone.

Through her left eye, Pamela glanced up as her family approached and smiled as best she could at them. "Don't I look dreadful again," she said, rhetorically.

"No mum," said Brett, "you could never look dreadful, even with that patch over your eye."

"Thank you, darling," Pamela replied, "the doctors said it was successful again but I've got to keep the patch on until tomorrow, just like last time. Bloody cataracts!"

"Come on, honey," said Dennis, "let's get you home."

A nurse came over to them with a long sheet of do's and don't's - even though Pamela still had the rules and regulations at home from her previous visit - and a bottle of eye drops. Then, swallowing the remains of her tepid tea, Pamela was free to go home.

Back in the car, Brett drove with Angela next to him while Dennis cradled Pamela into his arms in the back seat. Brett stared straightahead, trying hard not to allow himself to become hypnotised by the swishing of the windscreen wipers. The rain that had been threatening on their way to the hospital and had begun just as they arrived had now deteriorated, great plods plummeting down and rebounding off the ground from dark oppressive clouds.

"You all right, honey?" Dennis asked his wife, concernedly.

"Of course I'm all right," said Pamela, regretting immediately her raised tone when her husband was just showing genuine concern for her, "it was only a routine op, they do them all the time," she finished, lowering her voice to what she hoped was a more reasonable level.

"We were planning a welcome home party for you this evening," said Dennis.

"A welcome home party?" answered Pamela, her left eye widening before she broke into a fit of the giggles, "I only went in this morning. Anyone'd think I'd been in hospital for months instead of just a few hours."

"Let's call it a celebration party, then, for your eye op being such a success," suggested Brett, his own eyes still firmly on the road as the car made its slow progress through the lashing rain.

"Maybe we should hold the party tomorrow, honey?" suggested Dennis, "if you're not feeling up to it tonight, that is."

"Nonsense," replied Pamela, "I know you men too well, you're always up for a good fuck and I can see perfectly well out of one eye."

"That's great, mum," said Brett, not wanting to wait until tomorrow for the chance of fucking his beloved mother again, "and think how much better it will be when you've got that patch off and can see mine and dad's cocks and Angela's pussy better than you've done for ages."

"Can't wait," said Pamela, "but until tomorrow I'll just have to see them out of one eye. Besides," she went on, "its feeling them that counts," and everyone laughed.

There was a brief hiatus in the conversation before Ange

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