Obediently she reached between her legs and grabbed my pole, guiding it into her wet slit. Placing the head of my swollen cock into her slit I slowly ...ushed in, her tight pussy opening to receive me. Moaning with pleasure, she bent over and grabbed the rail to balance herself. I grabbed her hips and pulled her back onto my shaft and began slowly stroking in and out of her wet pussy. As I fucked her from behind, more passersby stopped to watch us. A couple of guys pulled their manhood from their. At 13 I had a bath once a week, however I managed about 6 visits to Aunty Jeans house, and her washy basket was in her bathroom. I used to take my transistor radio with me, and a towel and spend an hour soaking in her bath, or at least she thought I did. I would spend 20 minutes chatting to her while she ran the bath for me, and then head off upstairs to soak. Her washy basket was much like my Mothers, Jean washed once a week, so it was always full of worn panties, stockings still attached to. She was reminded how he looked like some alien creature focused on flooding her gut with his monster-like stickiness. He verbally chastised her sense of feminine dignity by describing to her in great detail how it looked to have her sphincter stretched to the limit. She felt his long, thick cock slide into her rear door like some sort of lethal snake with poisonous fangs. Her imagination saw him like an assassin ready to strike her deep inside her most private place, in a way that would. Then I noticed that little Timmy changed hands. He pinched both of Debra’s nipples and then he shoved his index finger into his mother’s pussy. I reached out and grabbed his hand and held it up to my nose as I inhaled his mother’s wonderful fragrance.I got caught.My wife asked, “Debra, would you mind terribly if my husband fingered your pussy? I think he is jealous of your son.”Debra looked at me with her son’s index finger partially in my nose and said, “No! Not at all! Help yourself. That’ll.