I was twitching, but she did not disappoint. When she came to bed, she shed her clothes and slipped under the sheets next to me, smooth and smelling o......creativity.We were making out, hiding out in our little cave, under the warm blankets. “Kiss my back,” she said to me, rolling away from our embrace. “Ok.” You know I rained kisses all over her skin. Sweet and slow, tasting every inch of her from nape to small. She moaned. “That feels so good. I just want more.”“Yeah?”“Yeah.”She didn’t have to. She had certainly made enough noise. Cindy blushed as she thought about her behavior.Then a new possibility occurred to Cindy. One that was much more disturbing than the first. If nobody broke into the house, and there was only one other person in the house then the man lying next to her had to be: Steve! Cindy tried to disbelieve it, but she knew it was true. Her sixteen-year-old son had raped her.Cindy wanted to break down and cry. Steve seemed to sense that his mother was in distress. He. Your body was there, but your soul was elsewhere." And when I went into your bedroom, you looked so sad and troubled. I just wanted to do something, anything, so I got in bed with you and held you." Janie looked at Cindy, then. "Cindy was mad at me at first, but when I told her how you held me so tight and just cried and talked and finally went to a peaceful sleep... Well, she wasn't mad anymore."Cindy laid her head on my shoulder. "And the next morning when you made us breakfast, it was like. I’d start wanking with my door left slightly ajar, when I see her coming in my direction. In the first few days she simply went off to another room, but soon she began lingering around my bedroom until one day she stood her, her eyes again fixed right on my cock. With an audience as her I felt proud in wanking, fully aware than she saw me in my sexual frenzy. That day I came buckets. I saw my mom flinch slightly at the sight of my load. Her lips were quivering again. Without her knowledge her.
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