Cycling back talked about plans to see Mrs Arnold again, if that failed stealing it from Grandma. It was getting dark as we rode around the back of th... house. Mom’s car in the driveway, the smell of chilli from the kitchen meant we had timed it about right.Mom had changed into PJ’s already; her heavy tits swung under the loose-fitting top the bottoms filled out by her ass cheeks. As we walked through the patio doors, she looked us up and down and told us to wash up. Small talk over dinner,. I could feel another orgasm building up slowly. Blissful wet pleasures were continually pulsing the length of me. Sexual intercourse had never been this intense! I began breathing faster and penetrating all the way to where our pubes met. Kathy matching me stroke for stroke.“Are you getting close baby?” She asked, holding my ass.I was spiraling quickly towards a massive cum event and said,“Yes, I don’t know, groan, oh! if I can hold it back!”My wet dick was in heaven and did not ever want to. Her dark-red hair flew about her face. Real tears fell down her cheeks. Tears of pain, not those fake ones she tried to use to get her husband's sympathy.CRACK!“A real wife loves and obeys him. That's what a good, Christian woman does, right?”CRACK!“Yes!” sobbed Mrs. Armstrong as she shuddered on the massage table.CRACK!“So what does that make you?” demanded Clint.CRACK!“A... A... a whore!” CRACK!“That's right. You're a fucking cheating whore! A bitch who revels in her sin behind her husband's. I spotted her when she walked in and my blood ran cold. Monique was taller than I, yet very curvy. Her hair was curled and lightened and she wore a smirk. She surveyed the club like a lioness surveying the savanna for her next meal.Suddenly I felt inadequate, comparing my own pale skin to Monique's smooth ebony, my puny C-cup breasts to Monique's magnificent honkers. I contrasted my own modest knee-length skirt, top, and flats to Monique's short, tight miniskirt, see-through blouse, and 5".