That night she stayed. "I need reassurance," she said, "that last time wasn't an erotic dream."Later that night, bent over the kitchen table, her litt...e knickers round her knees, she learned that it was no dream. After he felt her come, her thong dropped to the floor and he pushed her to the stairs, where he took her from behind again, she leaning forward, braced on the stairs.Then after a joint shower and wet sudsy love-making therein leading to a third orgasm for her, there was a romp in his. ” You are sexy.”If I need to explain her immediate reaction in just a sentence, she looked shocked.“Wha-a-at?”“I said, I want to kiss you”“Stupid,” My mother fumed. “I can’t believe this. I am your mother.”“Yes. You are,” I retorted.” My problem is not exactly that. You are sexy.”“Disgusting,” she screamed and covered her face with her hands as if I was about to pounce on her lips to kiss her. I glanced down to have a look at her waist void of any cover by her saree and just above where she had. I did not expect her to agree, "Sure sexy if that’s what you want" was her answer my answer was a flying hug in to her arms and many kisses. The rest of the day seemed to fly by while we made some decisions on who to invite to the roast and other little details.The next morning I woke up the same as every other morning Stacey's head between my legs and her tongue working its magic on my clit, when she noticed I was awake she looked into my eye's, "Good morning my little spit-roast" she said. It would be fun.He pushed my skirt up and time seemed to go forwards and backwards, so that sometimes it seemed like I was still sitting there, still holding the straw. And then I'd blink and see Gary's face above me, feeling his cock moving inside me. I tried pushing him away and giggled, or sitting on the sofa crying, or floating in the air and looking down at us. My legs were spread and my skirt bunched around my hips. My panties were hopelessly askew, exposing my sex as my swollen labia.