The door bell rang, her face lit up and she was up, show time babe, have fun, oh I will. Remember if you can sneak back into my room for a peak to see...me, ok honey. She headed off down stairs and I watched the camera, she opened the front door and he stepped in, door closed and he looked at her and said wow great look. Only for you babe, for next five minutes he had is tongue down her throat and one hand on her tit and the other in her crotch. She was rubbing his cock and moving her hips which. Tiny space. Something smothering him. Blocking off his air.His heart screamed in his chest like the final metallic death wail of a piece of machinery pushed far beyond its limits.Trapped. Smothered. Crushed. Suffocating."Oh shit! He's claustrophobic, remember. Stupid, Amanda, stupid."The smothering obstacle was removed from Ken's face. Still he couldn't breathe. The panic had taken hold of his lungs. He continued to hyperventilate, breath rushing in and out far too fast for his body to extract. Now he has black hair, is 43 and his hairline is receding, so he combs it to try not to show so much forehead.Mom is Claire Sullivan (nee Simmons), a housewife who works out four times a week at Curves. She's 41, 5ft9, a towhead and lithe at 136lbs. I would have to guess her measurements, but I believe she is a full C-cup, possibly 34-22-33. She is quite tiny in the waist. I've picked her up to get her out of my way on occasion, she usually giggled.My older sister is Lily Sullivan-Margate, now. “Marianne,” I said quietly. “I respect what you’re doing as regards your pussy, but can I please just wipe my cock between the lips and get some of your juice on me?”She looked at me doubtfully.“I promise,” I added, and her face softened.“Okay,” she whispered. “Just a little wipe.”I did what we had agreed, fighting the temptation to plunge into her womanliness. With my right hand I simply located her lips and got the head of my cock between them, then quickly (actually not that quickly) flicked.