White foaming spit filled up the spaces between the corners of our mouths. When our lips finally unlocked they were connected with many thick, strands...of our oral fluids."Like it?" my mother asked huskily."I love it," was my reply, after which I filled my own mouth with my saliva and closed an open mouth over my mother's, and flooded it with my oral fluids. She swallowed it all moaning heavily."Don't spill too much of it, I want a lot of that stuff in my hole. You know what hole I'm talking. A hand slips beneath the ruffled hem, my palm falling between your thighs as I feel the heat that builds. Pressing my hand up against you, feeling you through the soft fabric of your panties, the merest sensual barrier between you and I. "Oh God!" You gasp. Magic fingers gently trace and caress the length of your quivering petals of your flower that aches with desire. Back and forth, the touch of the sensual material pressing against you so deliciously arousing, your own writhing only fuelling. In our early days, I cocked her regularly first thing in the morning last thing at night - and maybe once or twice during the day if I sensed that she was up for it when I 'ran my hand on her' up under her skirt and down the front of her knickers to feel and finger her hairy little quim to check that she was in moist and in heat. Back then i could keep poking her without coming for at least two hours and she would give as good as she got. Anywhere on the farm would do. In the hayshed, up. "Did you like what you saw?" She asked rather nonchalantly."Um, yeah." Was about all I could muster."Would you like some wine?" She then asked.I replied in the affirmative. She looked so good standing in front of me. I guessed that she was about thirty-five, about ten years older than me. She then told me that she was married and her husband was away on business for a couple of weeks. She then explained that she was faithful to her husband, but I could come in and watch. I thought this an offer.