I guided my cock with my hand, tracing the swollen slit with the very tip of my cock. Up. Down. Her hips wriggled. She wavered over her hands, her nip...les brushing the cushion. I entered her. I held myself deep, unmoving, enjoying the moment of connection. Then we began to move. I thrust. She rocked back to meet my thrust. Slow at first. Growing steady. Moving together. Completely. She tossed her hair. I held her hips. We moved. She shifted lower onto her elbows. I tucked my hips at the end of. ..”“I never said that. I’m just not sure that...”Mark was growing impatient. “Time to put up or shut up Davey Boy. If you’re not interested then we’re sure Bud Johnson will be. His mom is just as pretty as yours and has a killer bod as well.”“I ... I ... okay I’m in,” stammered David.“Atta boy, Davey,” said Larry grinning along with the other two.They each gripped hands to signify commitment.“Uh, now what?” asked David nervously.“Now the teaching begins my boy,” grinned Mark. I’m gonna give you. I looked over my shoulder at my back in an attempt for her to see it also."Would you put lotion on my back?" I asked."Yes, but you have to do mine too." She replied. That was easy enough. She put some on my back and rubbed it in."The backs of your legs are a little red too." She said and began pouring lotion on them and rubbing. That was a green light. I had already put lotion over all my legs but now that gave me an excuse to do hers."Lay down." I said. She straightened her towel and laid on. Everyone looks at me like I’m a disease, like I’m something to pity, or their own personal fixing job. I hate it. I started cutting when I was twelve because of the amount of pain I saw my mom in. I could never do anything right. I was always doing something wrong in her eyes, even when I was doing everything right. I got into fights constantly and developed a reputation as someone who was distant and not to be messed with. Never once did my mom ask why I had been in the fights or why I did.