The clock was ticking, and I went to the room as I didn’t know any of my mother’s friends. At around 10 pm, there was a knock on my door. I opened...it, and I saw my mom standing with a sad face and a party hat.I stood by the door, resting my head by the edge, “Let me guess, your friends ditched you too.” She nodded her head. I close the door and walked out. I put my hand around her shoulder and walking towards the hall.Me: All this year, we were here for each other in this lockdown. So, let’s. I couldn't but help notice every time she bent over I took a lengthy glance and her arse and boobs. Every now and then being horny I would have a little grab of my cock as her back was to me. I cant believe how hot it is she said to me. I replied back to her that she was looking quite red maybe a bit to much of the sun today. She glanced down at her self looking at her arms and turning slightly and looking at the back of her legs when she agreed. I am looking a bit burnt she said. I nodded and. Lyra took a step closer to read the ten centimetre tall identification tattoo upon the filthy worker’s left breast, although the same information was also available as a visual floater via Lyra’s implant. It identified her only by her roll number, slave 4C. ?I thought that this was a serious fucking workplace, not a doxy-house. So is that supposed to be funny?? the ex-soldier demanded. ?That number on your tit says that you’re a stoker-slut, numero 4C here in the boiler room, not some pampered. "Oooooohoooooh! Agggggghhhhhhhh!" Marilyn moaned before the frenzied assault,her body thrashing beyond control from the obscene sensation coursing through herloins and rectum.Gasping, Peter slacked off, reclining his weight heavily against his aunt's upthrustbuttocks, his cock buried to the hilt in the rubbery tightness of her rectum. He flexed,sending another wanton shiver coursing the length of her softly perspiring body."I'm sorry," he groaned, "I'm hurting you." No," Marilyn gasped,.