Savita was already irritated with Reena and told her husband that her recipe was way better than that of Reena’s.“I didn’t mean anything… You ...re the one watching her cooking show on the television!” said Ashok to Savita Bhabhi. “You got to admit, Reena has a way of selling her cooking…” he added.“Those are called breasts” she said to her husband knowing he was referring to her huge boobs and the deep cleavage that she was flaunting. “And I have a pair as well” Savita added as she cupped her. He was a man of few words and politely asked me about my flight in a quiet, low tenor. When I asked what his name was, he only said, “Bingo.” He let me in the back door of a black limousine. A tasteful sedan, not one of those tricked-out stretch limo. Sitting in the back seat was my handsome and distinguished paramour, impeccably dressed in a sport coat, trousers, dress shirt, and a silk tie. He barely let out a squeal before we locked into a rapturous embrace. Our urgent lips crashed into each. I pulled my head from her neck and looked in her eyes as she started to buck against me. I wrapped my arms around hers, and held her shoulders. She started to moan louder and louder but always looking at me. I could feel the pressure building in her and in me. I let out a moan and said to her I was going to cum soon. Those words sent her over the edge. She screamed loudly as I left her start to cum, her pussy spasm as my cock filled her. In between her screams, she told me to cum. To fill her. Everyone is equal, and deserving of respect. This story for its part is often misogynistic, toxic, and a little fucked up.)“What? You’re not serious.”“I’m dead serious. I don’t care what my dad does anymore. It’s worth it. She’s worth it.”“But... She’s your mom, dude.”Outside on the patio dining area of Leonard’s Pizzeria three young graduates squandered yet another summer afternoon. Patrons sparsely filled the tables during the lunch rush while waitresses wandered around in their green skirts..