Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
“So, are you going to ask Persephone out or what, man?” Greg, my closest friend next to Zander, let his heavy backpack fall from his shoulder as he slid down beside me on the school bus, the backpack hitting the ground with a dull thud. I peeled my eyes away from the window, where I’d been examining an auburn-haired teacher who shared an almost uncanny likeness to my mother, except with a smaller rack. “Huh? Oh, nah,” I replied. Greg gave me a puzzled look, and I shifted under his scrutiny. “What?” “Are you high? You’ve been chasing after that broad for months!” He paused, quirking a brow. The corners of his mouth tugged upward, his smile almost maniacal. “Unless … you’ve found a new piece of ass!” I flashed him a smile. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. “Haha! Dude, spill! Who’s the broad?” “No one you know, Greg.” That was a lie, but I couldn’t exactly tell him that I’d been fooling around with my mom. I had enough problems fitting in as it was. Greg gave me one of istanbul travesti those classic sidelong looks of his, the look that said he didn’t believe a word I spoke. But, thankfully, he let it go. I spent most of the bus ride home in silence, half-listening to Greg rant about an upcoming test. I thought of mom. My mind flashed vivid images of our past affairs, and I found myself getting turned on. Luckily, Greg was too absorbed in his rant to notice the bulge in my jeans. Everything that I’d done with my mom so far had been great. Fantastic, even. But my body was craving much more than foreplay. I needed to be inside her, I needed to feel her tight, slick walls spread around my shaft. I needed to pump mom full of cock. Her son’s cock. And the longer I waited, the higher the chances were that I’d go mad with lust. I suddenly grew frustrated as prickly need ran along my chest and stomach. The bus finally stopped in front of my house. Greg and I exchanged goodbyes and I stepped off the bus, stomping toward my house. I was on a istanbul travestileri mission. Dad was still at work, which gave me a few hours to do what I pleased to my mother. I was determined not go to bed another night with blue balls. I refused. Entering the house, I dropped my backpack at the door and headed towards the sunroom, where I was sure my mother had been, getting her work out on. I peeled off my clothes as I walked, leaving a trail of clothes in my wake. I was wearing nothing but a pair of socks by the time I appeared in the sunporch’s doorway, my erection throbbing and dangerous. “V-Vinnie?” Mom stammered out, damn near tripping over herself on the treadmill. She managed to catch herself, and promptly stepped off. Her sweat-lined brow knitted in confusion, the corners of her mouth falling. “Is…” Her eyes shifted toward my crotch, my erection bobbing as I approached her. “Is everything okay?” “Yep.” I said matter-of-factly. While she was distracted, I took her by the wrist and whipped her around, pushing travesti istanbul her towards a gray tweed-fabric couch. She fell over the couch’s arm, and I held her down before she could bother getting up. “Vinnie! What are you doing?!” She yelled with a motherly sternness in her tone. I was unphased. Okay, a little turned on, but mostly unphased. “Stop, this instant!” She demanded, and I ignored her, pulling her spandex from over her ass. Dirty girl, I thought. She wasn’t wearing panties. “Vinnie!” “Quiet!” I barked. Spreading her cheeks, I buried my face into her ass, shoving my tongue against her asshole. I heard Mom gasp. The reaction was lovely. I slid my tongue southward, stiffening it, and shoved it in her hole, allowing my tongue to slither to and fro in her walls. Mom let out a squeal, her body lurching. I slapped my hand against her ass. “Bad mommy,” I said. “Stop squirming.” Surprisingly, she did as she was told, her muscles relaxing. Her moans grew louder as my tongue explored her, slurping hungrily at her cunt, flicking stiffly at her throbbing clit. It wasn’t long before the lower half of my face was covered with her cum. “Oh my god, baby….baby, what’re—ahn!” Without warning I slid my cock into her, and damn-near keeled over.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32