"Well that's an interesting way to look at it. My name is Mary Ellen Hopkins. You can call me either of them," she said."Alright Mary Ellen, I shall t...y to make you proud of me." I said."Good, then go dance with one of those tall African gentlemen," she said."The closest thing to the African experience they have is having once seen a Tarzan movie on TV. But I will go dance with them just for you." I stood up by my chair and made a couple of bad dance moves. My bald head covered by the colorful. "Probably anything with Adam Sandler in it," I replied, drying my hands with a hand towel—I had been in the middle of washing dishes. Leaning against the door frame, I draped the towel over my shoulder and folded my arms. Golden late-morning sunlight spilled through drawn windows, Mom basking in its warmth, her fiery mane blazing. She dressed simply, a soft green blouse and a pair of denim jeans, her pretty feet slipped into a pair of green heels. It was simply amazing how she could make. ” By the time I stepped inside he was standing in front of an old sofa. He was not an attractive man, far from it. He looked about 55, with short grey hair and glasses. His face looked like a mole. He was wide and had a gut, and was wearing an old striped bathrobe. Without saying a word he opened the robe and sat on the sofa, motioning toward his cock.He was ugly, but his cock was nicely shaped with a fat round head. I nervously walked over and knelt in front of him. I reached out and took it. I leaned forwards, unfastened her blouse – it would look sexier on film than if I'd simply pushed it up to her throat – and took her erect, stubby nipples between my lips.She responded by bending her knees to place her feet flat on the bed and humping upwards to sheath me completely in her deepest place.Without releasing her nipple, I backed my cock slowly out of her, then equally slowly – but very firmly – I slid it back in. She was pouring juices and my cock felt little friction from her.