Exhausted, I reached down and pulled my husband up into my arms and kissed him deeply, tasting the sperm and my own orgasm upon his lips, knowing that...the intensity of the moment was equally shared. It is the passion of the act that I enjoy the most, and I'm certain the same is true for my husband. The one position that I don't particularly care for, but will do from time-to-time for my husband's sake is to be on all fours or lying upon my belly with my legs spread. The reason I don't. Her tits were nice enough, but nothing special to look at, but nice to play with. Growing up I would jack off thinking of my mother. I would visualize having all kinds of sex with her, from blowjobs to straight fucking. I did get to see her a number of time undressing or dressing. We lived upstairs in a two room apartment. The stove was in the family, room where we ate, and where I slept on a couch. Mom would undress in this room for the warmth, and I sometimes would pretend to be sleeping, and. I actually found that I missed the taste of sperm when they came. As the night continued, the men changed from those mostly married, stopping off for a quickie on their way home from work, to singles coming out after dinner. I had sucked off three more before a paunchy middle aged man driving a new Buick had me take him to the motel, where he asked for specific details of what I had already done that evening. He was disappointed that I hadn’t actually fucked and insisted on kissing me and. Cum glistened on her thighs. I quickly closed the door and headed for the bathroom.I never made it. Vomit spewed from me like a scene from "The Exorcist". I pretty much plastered the wall and a throw rug on the floor. Thinking I needed to quickly clean up the mess, I suddenly gave a grim chuckle. Puke on the floor was the least of my worries. I padded downstairs to the den. I removed a brick in the fireplace and pulled a key out. It easily opened the fireproof gun safe. I mulled over my.