Um..." is all you mutter. John glides his fingers up along your shoulder and against your neck. His cool fingers tickle against your neck. "Don't worr..." He says, "it can be our little secret". Curling his fingers around your neck, he lifts your chin and lowers down. Suddenly his lips are around yours. You thrust your hands against your chest to push him away, but the hard muscle forces you coil down against his shirt and grip a hold, tugging him in.You feel his hand drift down your shoulder,. ”“Come on son I am an old woman twice your age and more.”“Ma even the younger breed cannot match up to your oomph.”He started to grow in my hand, that’s the best thing about young men—drain them and stroke them – they get ready in a jiffy.“But we are committing incest son.”“Ma,’’ he paused for a moment relishing my gentle tug job or maybe to frame the sentence he spoke.“Ma the nature and mentality of incest have changed over the years. Earlier women hardly maintained themselves and used to. Hey, this is what people do on a real movie date. We made our way into the theatre and I led us to the middle seats in a middle row.“I thought we’d sit in the back row,” she whispered. “Isn’t that the necking section?”“Uh, uh. It’ll be more fun down here.”We settled in, popcorn on the chair arm between us, and I casually draped my right arm around her shoulders. When the lights dimmed down for the previews, I leaned over to kiss her. It felt a little odd, since we hardly ever kissed mouth on. I’m going to own that pussy so perfectly wrapped inside that pencil skirt.” He fell to his knees, his hands on her legs, pushing her skirt up high. The material rubbed the outside of her thigh, the chafe it rubbed over her every nerve ending, sparking something so primal in her belly. She wanted him to grab and squeeze, to take and fuck.“Have you imagined me here, my face an inch from your damp pussy? Staring directly at your dripping wet underwear?”He let his hands roam down her inner thigh,.