I loved the word and the sensations it triggered. Sex I massaged my lips, shuddering and quivering, my long, blonde hair flowing about my head. His tongue licked up my folds. But not with this one. I tensed. He clearly didn’t. Maybe your mother?”
“Or your wife?” I asked, licking my lips. He smiled, his eyes flicking down to my bodice. “Oh, yes, you are such a whore. My eyes widened at the bliss he churned. I doubt it. Something filthy. His balls thwacked over and over into me as the rapture kept flooding out of my pussy. I passed it on to my mother, who dropped a check in. I burned for the incestuous delight. “Reach down and guide my dick to your sinful hole, slut,” he snarled. He thought I was a whore, a tramp, something to look down on. He made me squirm. My fingers crept a little lower, nearing my pussy. He sucked so hard, his cheeks, rough with a hint of new whiskers, rubbing into my sensitive flesh. He grunted once, twice, and then buried into her as I shuddered. My eyes rolled back in my head. I glanced to my left where the redheaded Donna sat beside her husband, nodding her head, agreeing with everything he said.
