redstheatre

One day she definitely knew the effect she had on me, even if she hadn’t before. I was writing an essay on The Grapes of Wrath and asked Mrs. B when she came by if a word was spelled correctly. She leaned over, her silky red hair brushing against my cheek and her breast lay against my left shoulder. My cock stiffened instantly—and uncomfortably. Without thinking, I reflexively reached down and maneuvered my throbbing dick into a more comfortable position. It did create a sizable tent pole in my pants that I tried to push down and hide, which only drew attention to my crotch. Mrs. B blushed noticeably, stood up while stifling a laugh and muttered an apology.

Forensic artists still had to make a composite image of what this woman would look like if she could smile, or furrow her

“Okay,” she blushed, moving to do as I'd asked, Daddy sidling tightly up behind her. It pretty much immediately turned into a three-way makeout session, instead, which was even better. Before long I stopped even trying to keep track of whose hands were where, as they both took turns playing with my titties and ass. Daddy's cock was otherwise occupied, of course, and since he seemed to be so preoccupied playing with me it meant I got to have Mom pretty much all to myself. God, her tits were incredible! So huge, and heavy, and soft! I liked my perky little firm ones too, but hers were just so different compared to mine, it was so much fun to explore and play! Daddy finally came in her, making her squeal and twitch in our arms, but when I tried to slide down the bed to clean her up she stopped me, just holding me close to cuddle instead. That was okay, too.