In fact I can almost hear her voice now, ‘Then three teaspoons make a tablespoon,’ she said, pouring water from measuring spoon to measuring spoon... I would sit on the ceramic tile countertop with my feet dangling into the deep, white porcelain sink as Mom Mom did the ‘Teaspoons and Tablespoons.’ I watched in amazement as she would turn on the water to a slight trickle and the light would sparkle off the shiny spoons as she carefully measured and poured. She started with the tiniest, a spoon so. There was, however, no sign of a bra. Panties were all that she was wearing under the shirt.Sandy sat down in an overstuffed chair and placed both feet on the floor. She motioned Charlie to the couch across from her.As he sat down, Charlie got a brief glimpse of Sandy's white cotton panties peeking from between her slightly parted thighs. Looking past him toward the door, Sandy slowly crossed her legs as Aunt Anita came through the door.Anita stopped in the center of the room, her nakedness. It was notmuch bigger than a shoebox, although squarer in shape. Harry Pringle was twenty-nine, rich, brash and very good at his job. Hewas fairly tall and thick set and lately had been developing anoticeable paunch, though most people would probably still consider himmoderately good-looking. A currency trader in the City, he lived in a newly renovated lateVictorian terrace in nearby Notting Hill. He often came down thePortobello Road to check out the antiques shops and market stalls,. The taste was superb. I rammed my tongue into my momsâ’ cunt and started to lap away at her. She was now moaning away in pure incestuous lust. It finally struck me. I had my tongue inside the deep, loose, hairy, soaking wet vagina of my own mother and she wasnâ’t my mother anymore. She was my lover. I loved it. I was licking the salty vaginal secretions of my own mothers aroused pussy. The same pussy that I once had come from. These thoughts were filling my head and I was getting even.