Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories

"Yes!" My whisper was hoarse and intense. I ground my cock into her for added emphasis, like I couldn't help it at the thought of being on her.

"Ok," she whispered for the first time, "but only if I'm on my tummy. We can't face each other. It's too dangerous. We can't have an accident ... you know ... you can't come inside me. It's wrong."

"Ok, Mom," I agreed, elated. I'd won!

"Promise you won't try to get inside me."

I didn't respond. Instead, groaned in her ear like I was beside myself, "Oh, Mom."

I let my hands fall away from her tits, along her waist and over her hips. Grasping the sides of her skirt, I slowly pulled it up. I reached her hips before she reacted.

"No, ... not here." She placed her hands on mine, trying to slow them.

"I just want to feel you for a minute," I gasped into her ear, continuing to raise her skirt.

"You can't," her voice was panicked, "your father is just around the corner." Her hands tried to push mine down more strenuously but I had reached her waist.

"He won't come in. He sent me in to apologize for whatever I'd done, because you were baking."

Again, I felt her tension drain away. She actually laughed.

"He'll wait until we come out," I added for assurance, looking down at her butt. The waist of her panties drew a line around her hips only halfway up her buttocks. The edges traced the perimeter of a triangular that covered less and less of her cheeks until they met in an apex that disappeared between the tops of her legs. I slipped my hands out from under hers but the skirt didn't fall. Her hands kept it up. As quietly as I could, I undid my belt and unbuttoned my jeans, pushing them down without unzipping the noisy zipper. I pushed my undershorts down with my jeans.

Mom didn't seem to realize what I was doing. I pressed my knees into the backs of hers, pinning her to the counter once more. Using my fingers, I traced the outline of her cheeks from under her legs up the sides to the top of her hips. I let my index fingers follow the line of her panties down the triangle of her legs and then back up, this time pulling the panties into her crack. Holding her panties up to keep the material between her cheeks, I moved forward and dipped my bare, hard cock into her crease.

"No ... oh no," she cried, trying to pull away to no avail as my cock followed her ass. "Stop ... don't ... not here!" she hissed.

"Will you come upstairs? Will you let me do this tonight? ... I need you, Mom. I can't wait." I shoved my cock up and down.

"Yes ... yes," she gasped, "in a few minutes."

"Promise?" I pushed.

"Promise," she answered.

"Ok, but I'm taking these." I pushed her panties down to her knees before she could do anything to stop me. Her legs moved apart to stop them going any further. "Let them fall," I whispered. When she didn't, I pushed my cock between her bare cheeks and rubbed it up and down. She moved her legs together, allowing her panties to drop to her ankles. I kneeled and gently raised each foot to slide the panties off. When I stood, her skirt was back in place, covering her charms.

"Don't be long, Mom." I did up my jeans and stuffed her panties my pocket. Leaving the kitchen, I paused to wave to Dad. To his querying look, I gave a thumbs up. He smiled and winked. I was only halfway up the stairs when I heard Mom tell Dad she was going to help me study. I waited, holding the door open until she passed me and went straight to my bed, laying down on her tummy. I closed the door but didn't latch it.

Approaching the bed, I dropped my jeans and undershorts before pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it to the floor. I bent over Mom, unzipping her skirt and tugging it off. She stayed on her tummy, her face pressed into my pillow. I turned her onto her side so I could unbutton her blouse. She kept her face turned down but allowed me to remove first her shirt and then her bra. She was completely naked. I crawled up on the bed. She turned onto her tummy again and closed her legs.

"You're so beautiful," I whispered, running my hands up the back of her calves and thighs, and onto her ass. I squeezed her cheeks between the thumb and index finger of each hand.

I searched in my night table drawer until I found the cream I used for masturbating. I did this every night and needed the lubricant to stop my cock from chafing. Wiping a liberal amount on my cock, I leaned forward onto my arms, my cock hanging over her ass. Slowly, I dipped my hips until my cock made contact with the back of her legs. Poking it into the furrow between her thighs, I shoved it along, the head skittering forward until it hit her buttocks. I shoved harder, pushing it between her cheeks. Aided by the cream, my cock moved easily through her ass crack.

Mom didn't make a sound the whole time I slid back and forth in the crease between her cheeks but when I pulled back and plunged it between her thighs, just under her pussy, she moaned out loud. She moistened quickly and after just a few shoves the inside of her thighs were slick. I could tell she really liked this. Each time I pushed in she let out a little "ohhhh" as my cock made contact with her pussy lips.

I was able to angle my cock so I could guide the head between her lips. Soon, her ass was lifting a little as I drew back, trying to keep in contact, and her legs opened a little to give me better access. Her "ohhh's" were more frequent now. Though she lifted her ass as I withdrew, she hunched it forward when I thrust back, preventing me from pushing into her. But she wasn't quick enough every time and I was able to push the small part of my cock's head into her a little. She interrupted her "ohhh's" with a "don't" whenever I did this but it didn't sound that convincing since she didn't do anything to make it harder for me. In fact, she seemed to forget to hunch forward more often.

Then on one backstroke I pulled back completely out of contact. Mom kept her ass lifted up, waiting for me to slide my cock back along her pussy. Instead, I grasped my cock in my hand, pressed its head part way into her slit, and slid it along her length and back, slowly, three or four times.

"Ohhhuuhhhahhhhh," she repeated each time.

I paused, ecstatic at her wanton sound, knowing she was lost in the feel of my cock on her pussy. It was very empowering. I dragged my tip through her again.

"D-o-o-o-o-n't," she moaned softly, "don't ... don't ... don't."

She kept pulling her pelvis forward, twisting her pussy away from me, making it hard for me to renew that contact.

"I won't put it in, Mom," I gasped, "I won't." I was panting. So was she. "Please ... lift up ... please."

She lay under me, breathing raggedly. When I saw her ass lifting again, I almost came. She cocked it up higher than before and waited for me to drag my slick stick through her again. Instantly, I obliged. She wasn't moaning anymore but her raspy breathing was even louder. Without intention, my cockhead poked further and further into her as I rubbed it back and forth until, finally, it popped completely in. I paused in shock as I realized that the head of my cock was firmly lodged inside her cunt. There was a magical moment where I was holding my cock just in her and she was twisting her ass up to make it easier for me. Then it ended.

"Oh, Frankie, nO." Her ass plunged to the mattress. There was a squishy plop as my cock popped out, instantly experiencing pangs of loss as it separated from the first cunt it had ever felt. MORE ... it needed more.

Mom was whimpering. Was she crying? I couldn't tell. I whispered to console her.

"Ok Mom. We'll do it a different way. It'll be ok."

I pulled her onto her side. I kneed her thighs until she pulled her legs up, together, until she was almost in a fetal position. I bumped her top leg, pushing it forward, opening her legs to provide room for my cock to slide between her legs, holding her hip until my cock was pressed against the bottom of her pussy. She was very wet.

Immediately, I began to move my cock back and forth. I reached down to grab her tit, squeezing it until her nipple stiffened and poked out between the circle of my thumb and index finger. Increasing the speed of my thrusts, I changed hands, using my left to hold her just released right tit. I moved my free hand down to grasp the front of her thigh. Within moments, I was brushing her pussy lips side to side with my fingers as my cock thrust through her legs. Holding it as hard against her as I could, I sawed it back and forth.

Changing my angle so I could dig between her pussy lips again, I moved my fingers up to pinch her clit. She was now very, very, wet. She was moaning into the pillow. Angling more, I dug into her cunt. She started to turn her head up from the pillow but I moved my hand from her tit to keep it pressed in. I started to push into her.

"No ... Frank ... don't". She tried to turn her face up but I kept it pushed down. I shoved further in until all but the wide part of my cock head was in her.

"No ... please, Frank ... don't."

I leaned right over her until my lips were close to her ear. "I need to, Mom."

"No," she hissed, "we can't."

An evil feeling welled up in me. I wanted to possess her. "Don't make me go to Donna."

Mom didn't answer. I felt the tension flowing out of her, could sense resignation, and then, amazingly, her pussy lips softened, loosening.

Slowly, I pushed my cock all the way into her. I pulled out and shoved hard back in.

As if changing her mind, she suddenly cried, "Don't ... don't."

Again I pulled out and shoved in, forcefully, bouncing her whole body forward on the bed.

"Stop ... Frank ... don't."

I pulled out and shoved in, five or six times, and stopped.

"Don't, Frank, ... please don't."

She didn't say stop this time. I fucked into her a dozen times more.

"don't ... don't .... don't." Her voice was soft now, quiet.

I began a steady fuck. She kept moaning softly, "don't." I kept fucking her, holding her head, squeezing her tit again, then finally sticking my fingers in her mouth to stop her constant "don'ts" even though I was enjoying the sound of it. For some reason, she really started moaning when I put my fingers in her mouth. I started banging her really hard then, fast and furious, I couldn't hold back anymore. I clutched her head, desperately, as I emptied myself in her, spasming against her soft backside.

When we had regained our breath, I whispered to her, "Thanks for letting me rub like that, Mom. It was real special."

She didn't respond at first but finally answered, "You really like it that way?"

"Yes," I responded enthusiastically. "I love it. And you're the only one that can do it like that," I assured her.

"Ok," she said, "then that's the way we'll do it."

We never acknowledged that I'd actually fucked her. From then on, we always started with me rubbing my cock through her legs but I was always fucked her in the doggy position or on her side. I found that I liked the feel of holding her head as I fucked her. Though we fucked every time, we always called it rubbing.

Only one thing bothered me. The door was open about six inches. I was sure I had closed it.

About a week later, Mom started a silly argument with me about nothing and then stomped her into the kitchen. Moments later, she started banging cookie sheets around. Dad nodded at me to go 'make up' with my Mom. When I entered the kitchen, Mom hadn't even got any baking stuff out. She only had a couple of cookie sheets out, one warming in the oven and the other laying on top of the burners on the stove.

She was just standing there. She smiled when she heard me come into the kitchen and then turned to face the stove again. Realizing that the 'argument' had been fake, and that Dad would not bother us until we had 'made up', I strode directly to her. Standing behind her, I opened my pants and pushed on her back until her head came to rest on the cookie sheet. I grasped her head with my left hand and slipped two fingers from my right into her mouth as I brought my cock to bear against her skirt. Mom raised her skirt until my cock flopped down and poked at her ass. She wasn't wearing any panties.

Reaching behind to grasp my cock in her hand, she guided it to her pussy. I gave her a bloody good rubbing that time, her head sliding around on the cookie sheet despite my tight grip. At one point, I felt a sudden dread as I sensed someone watching. Panicked, I jerked my head to the kitchen doorway, but it was empty. Desire overwhelming my fear, soon renewed my slow thrusts, lifting Mom up onto her toes as I shoved my cock in as deep as I could. It was so erotic, I squirted into her a lot. When I pulled out, she stayed bent over with her head on the cookie sheet while I pulled up and fastened my pants. Her skirt fell back into place but a dribble of come ran down the inside of her left leg.

She followed me upstairs, telling Dad we were going to study again. She lay on her tummy but I crawled around to her head and turned her over. As soon as she was on her back, I straddled her face, tilted her head back toward me, and pushed my cock into her mouth. That's when I really found out how much she liked to have her mouth filled. I got so carried away holding her head while I slid my cock into her throat, I didn't realize I had forgotten to close the door.

Again, I felt that creepy feeling that I was being watched. I looked up, my cock fully plugged in Mom's mouth, to find Dad standing in the doorway. I froze. He smiled and nodded. I was too scared to react. Nodding, as if pointing, he made a ring of the thumb and index finger of his left hand and poked the index finger of his right back and forth through it. He kept nodding, looking at Mom's open legs.

Slowly, I leaned forward and pulled Mom's skirt up, exposing her bare cunt. Holding her legs open, looking at Dad still thrusting his finger in and out of his hand, I plunged two fingers into Mom's pussy. She moaned loudly around the cock in her mouth and began sucking it hard. I began to really work my fingers in her. Dad smiled, turned, and sauntered out of sight toward his bedroom. Mom's hips were lunging up on my fingers, her mouth gripping my cock with incredible suction. As my seed began to pour into my mother's throat, I realized that my father knew his wife very well.
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Dave here. Sorry I haven't kept you updated for a while. I was very busy studying for exams. We have settled quite well into our new life with Mary and her son. Paul is much more juvenile that I had first thought. Though only a couple of years younger than me, he is emotionally much younger, spending his time playing computer games and reading comic books.

I have become quite friendly with Mary and we have talked about Paul a lot. She asked me if I could help her get Paul to grow up. She had tried everything she could think of without success. I told her there wasn't anything I could do but there was something she could do, and I could help her with that if she really wanted to help her son.

Mary was aware of my relationship with Mom though she tried not to let on that she knew. Paul was too naive to understand what was right in front of him, but Mary clearly knew. I also knew it embarrassed Mom once in a while when I touched her in front of Mary, though she allowed it. Once, we emerged from our bedroom after a rare afternooner and Mary was in the hall on her way to Dad's room. Both women went red in the face.

So I was aware that Mary knew what I was hinting at when I suggested there was something more she could do, and that I could help her in that direction. But she couldn't bring herself to discuss it and the conversation changed. But she brought it up again several days later when we were sitting around the kitchen table having an afternoon coffee while my father napped.

"Paulie, ... he's ...", her face was struggling, "you know I know about you and you mother," she blurted out. "I would never say anything to anyone," she assured me, "and I know you were ... I could never ... do that."

I took her hand in both of mine, patting it. "You don't have to ... you know, go all the way. But if you go a little way, you could change his focus. It will work, Mary, I know it will."

"But ... how can you ... how can he want his mother?" she asked awkwardly, flustered.

"It's very special. Susan is my mother, but she's a woman too. She's irresistible."

"But, ... I don't have that ... glamour, your mother has."

"Yes, you do. You're a very attractive woman, Mary, believe me. You have a great figure, a nice lithe body, and you're very pretty. Your hair, short like you wear it, is kind of exotic. I know you wear it that way for efficiency, but it's still sexy." I let my comments sink in, sipping my coffee as I watched her.

"No, it won't work. Paulie has never even looked at a girl, let alone his mother."

"Believe me. He'll be very interested, and you can use that to make him grow up. I can nudge him in the right direction. You just have to let him ... do stuff, once he's started. Don't scare him off. Make like it's natural."

"Do what stuff?"

"Just let him look at you, maybe touch you a bit, kiss you like a girl, not his mother."

"That's all?"

"Yeah. You can encourage him, entice him with your body, your voice, the softness of your skin. Let yourself be a woman around him. I guarantee he'll react. Even watching a woman's feet can be erotic for a man. Do simple things, but things that he knows are special and secrets between him and you."

I could see her thinking, already buying into the plan. It made my cock swell knowing this mother was thinking about seducing her son, at least to some extent, and that I could be part of it. I glanced over her body, her small breasts and narrow waist, her hips flaring a little wider than they should and her ass that stuck out a little prominently though it wasn't that big. My cock stiffened. I wanted to fuck her, right there in the kitchen.

I smiled at her, "I could help you choose some things to wear that might help." She ignored my suggestion.

"I just don't know how to get started. Paul is so into his comics and games. He's like a little kid, not an eighteen year old."

"Don't worry," I assured her, "I'll get him started."

"How?" she asked.

"Leave it to me," I said.

"You won't say anything to him?" her eyes widened.

"No, no. Trust me."

I didn't waste any time. Mary and Paul joined us for dinner often, and sometimes watched a movie on our very large high definition screen. I made a point over the next week to touch Mom more often when Paul was around. Little pats here and there and a few more kisses. Mom didn't even seem to be aware, nor did Paul, but Mary was. If anything, I think I was getting Mary more intrigued, and that should help her with Paul, I reasoned. I began touching Mom more intimately, and kissing her, more often when I knew Mary was around, and I could sense that it was having an effect on her.

Then one night, after we had finished a dinner that Mom had cooked, I rose from my seat, went around Mary sitting to my right to stand behind Mom and leaned down to hug her. I kissed her and thanked her for a wonderful dinner. Mom stretched her right arm up to lightly clasp my head as I nuzzled her cheek. I kissed her again after she responded, and let my right hand, on Paul's side of the table, slide down to cup the side of Mom's breast.

Mom froze. Mary looked like a statue. Paul seemed oblivious, his eyes focused on the comic book laying on the table to the left of his plate, pointed toward Mom. I finished my long kiss on Mom's cheek and moved to her ear, all the while cupping her breast. Mom's face reddened, but she didn't stop me, even when I poked the tip of my tongue onto her ear and traced its outline. I returned to my seat amid an awkward silence, the women sitting still and Paul staring at his comic.

Suddenly, Mom burst up, "Well, let's see what we have for dessert." Mary quickly stood and rushed to the fridge, her back to the table, "Ice cream," she suggested loudly, "how about ice cream?"

Paul was still staring at his comic.

What was that all about?" Mom demanded as we were getting ready for bed.

"What was what all about?" I replied.

"You know what I'm talking about. Touching me in front of Mary and Paul."

"Oh, that. I'm just helping Mary out."

"Helping Mary out. What do you mean?" The pitch of Mom's voice rose with every word.

"She asked me to. She's not blind. She's aware that you and I have a special arrangement. She's curious about how it began, so I told her it was to help Dad."

"Why did you tell her anything? It's none of her business." She was getting quite angry. "I'll get someone else to look after Dad. How embarrassing. How could you?"

"Mom relax. There's nothing to get embarrassed about. Mary is very impressed by our relationship and is curious to know if it something like that could help Paul," I stretched the truth considerably.

"Help Paul?" Mom asked, confused. "What's wrong with Paul? Is he sick? How ..."

"Mom, mom. He's not sick. He's very immature. You can see that."

"Yes, well ..."

"He needs something to make him grow up. He needs to focus on something other than computer games and comic books. Mary is very worried about him."

"So you thought feeling me up would distract him? I'M to be his new fascination? You have another thing coming, young man." Mom's voice was rising again as she sat up stiffly in bed.

"Mom, settle down" I cried, exasperated, flailing my arms. "I'm just trying to get Paul interested in his own Mom. I'm trying to trigger a new relationship with his own mom, something more interesting that will leave his toys behind."

"You think Mary wants to ..."

"No, Mom. I just suggested that women would be far more interesting to Paul than computers and toys and that if she could get him interested, he would start noticing girls. She's nervous about it but willing to try if it will help her son."

"But why involve me?"

"I can't very well touch Mary, now can I? And even so, that could push him away from her." Mom nodded. "I thought it would be best to nudge him with a few examples." Mom was still nodding, so I went for it. "Will you help?" Mom stopped, then nodded again.

"Just a little," she said, "to get him started. That's all."

"That's great, Mom. Thanks."

"You tell Mary. I don't want to talk about it with her, but I want her know I'm only going along with it to help Paul."

"Ok, Mom."

"But I don't think it will work," she added. "He didn't even notice."

"Sure he did," I replied. "You know what a fast reader he is, don't you?"

"Yes," Mom answered, clearly not sure what that had to do with anything.

"Did you see him, when I kissed you?"

"Yes. He completely ignored it."

"No, Mom," I corrected her. "His eyes were on the top of the comic book but his attention was on my hand on your breast." I paused for emphasis "He didn't turn the page once."

I could see in Mom's eyes that I was right. Paul had taken the first nibble.

I was just as convincing with Mary. I got get her to acknowledge that Paul had noticed me touching Mom's tit and that she had to be open to him approaching her with the same action but it might take some encouragement on her part. I asked her dress more intimately when they were alone in their apartment. If nothing happened, we might have to expose him to a few more incidents with Mom and I.

After a week of letting Paul see her in just her pajamas, and once in just a skirt and bra, nothing happened. Paul definitely watched his Mom, but he didn't try to kiss her or touch her despite the display or her hugging him more often. He simply returned to his computer or comics after the show was over.

The next week we ate dinner together and Mom cooked again. When Mary rose to get the dessert she had prepared, I rose to once more stand behind Mom and asked her to close her eyes. As I bent over Mom, I saw Paul turn to look, unrestricted by his own mom's absence at the table, my ducked head, and Mom's closed eyes. I cupped a breast in each hand as I thanked Mom for such a lovely dinner. I made sure my tongue was visible on her ear. I could feel myself harden. Mom didn't freeze up. She acted as if everything was natural, as did Mary when she set the dessert on the table while I was still cupping Mom's breasts. Paul didn't look away until I let go of Mom's tits and stood up.

After dessert, I suggested that Paul should thank him Mom. When he didn't move, I stood behind Mary. Both she and Mom were tense, but neither moved. I grasped her by her shoulders. "Well," I said, "you're not my Mom, so a kiss will have to do." I leaned down to give Mary a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for dessert, Mary," I said, and looked at Paul.

Paul mumbled, "Yeah, thanks Mom," and lowered his head.

Not to be deterred, I announced that I had to analyze a movie with a group for a class and report their opinions. Would they all watch it with me after the dishes were done? Sure, they all agreed. "Great," I thanked them. "Some of us are supposed to watch it in normal day clothes, and some while wearing pajamas. We're in the pajama group," I announced.

I don't think even Mom realized that this was all bullshit. I think she thought it was for a real class, until almost halfway through the movie where a Mom has hurt her leg and has to have her college age son help her get around and wash herself and stuff while she's in a full leg cast. He's not happy when he has to delay entering medical school but becomes absorbed with his Mom when she starts asking him to apply lotion around the top edge of her cast, near her private parts, to ease her chafing skin.

By then, we were all intent on the movie as it played out on our large high definition screen. I had dimmed the lights and arranged the seating so that Mary was on the end of one couch with Paul next to her, and I was on the far end of the other couch with Mom leaning against me with her legs tucked up on the couch beside her. I paused the movie a couple of times to make a comment or two but they all complained, insisting we should just watch it first.

But I achieved my goal of having Paul look our way and noticing that my arm was around Mom, and my hand was on her breast. I could feel him glance our way several times and made sure that my hand was gripping Mom's tit each time. Mary, bless her soul, was on cue and pulled Paul against her, resting his head on her own robe-covered breasts.

When the leg-oiling scene came on, I slipped Mom's robe apart and placed my hand directly on her nightie. After the scene ended, and the movie carried on, Paul slipped his eyes over to watch Mom and I. As soon as he did, I began to massage Mom's tit. Mom kept her eyes fixed on the screen but Mary, above and behind Paul so he couldn't see her with his head resting on her chest, watched me fondle Mom too. She seemed to be as mesmerized as her son.

To make it easier for Mom to stay focused on the screen, I pulled her across my lap to let her lay her head on the arm of the couch. I parted her robe and fondled both her tits as I played with her hair, moving my left hand from one to the other until the movie was over. I, too, focused on the screen so our little scene could play out for Paul's benefit and, I curiously found myself hoping, Mary's too. As I rubbed my palms across Mom's nipples, I found myself wondering how Mary's smaller fare would feel, and what she was wearing under the full length robe so tightly wrapped around her body. Could Paul feel her tits pressed against her head?

When the movie was over, I dimmed the lights even further, explaining that people would more openly discuss ideas in a dark room. The room was sufficiently dark that we couldn't see each other. I turned Mom more onto her back and loosened the belt on her robe, parting it to expose her nightie and her legs all the way down, if the lights were on. I let my hand play up and down her body, from her breasts to her thighs, as we began to discuss the movie. Paul didn't comment at first, but soon began to offer comments without direct prodding.

Slowly, our eyes became accustomed to the low light. At first, I could just make out the shapes of Mary and Paul on the other couch but could easily see my hand moving up and down Mom's body. Then I could dimly make out Paul's head against Mary's chest. Mary had turned her back to the couch, as I had turned Mom. Paul's head was now laying right on top of her chest, but he raised it often to look our way. I'm sure he could see Mom's more exposed body.

On one occasion as Paul lifted his head to watch us, I could see arms moving. I don't know if they were Mary's or Paul's but they managed to loosen Mary's robe and push it apart. Then Paul's head lay down again but I could see his head straining to look our way. To encourage him, I twisted Mom a little on her side with her back to the couch and urged Mom's thighs apart. She resisted but eventually gave in to my insistent hand. I pulled her knee up, opening her wide, exposing her silky panties to Paul's view. Bending down, I kissed Mom full on the mouth.

After that, I ended the session, turning the lights up only after Mary and Mom could re-secure their robes. I announced that I had several more movies to do in the project and would appreciate their help in the weeks to come. They all agreed enthusiastically to help, Paul most of all, and we went to our respective beds. I was eager to talk to Mary about Paul's reaction but knew Mom's as soon as we got upstairs.

Mom walked straight to the bed and stopped, removing her robe and letting it fall to the floor. I discarded my pajamas and walked her up onto the bed, on her knees. Keeping her upright by holding her arms by the elbows behind her, I entered her immediately. She was very wet. I thrust urgently into her from behind until we both reached a quick orgasm. Mom leaned back against me, her head lolling back and forth across my chest.

"Oh, God," she cried. "I can't believe how hot it made me when you opened my legs like that. I could feel his eyes on me. It was almost like they were poking inside me."

She gasped as she said this. I pushed her onto the bed and fed my softening cock into her.

"Yes," she moaned, "fuck me some more."

After a few more shoves, I hardened up and quickened my pace. I could hardly wait to talk to Mary.
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