A little hippy, as I always remembered. Just average looks. Her tits were nice enough, but nothing special to look at, but nice to play with. Growing ...p 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. He fucked me bare and unprotected and I got pregnant. That is not what this about so I will stop there on that part and continue where this story leads. So the story takes place around six months after our son was born. So now that part is out of the way I will tell you what happened that night. We had been out to a party and I had just a little to much to drink, I was not falling down drunk but all of my inhibitions were gone. As soon as we sent the baby sitter home I was ready for sex, John. He had filled a couple of pages with phone numbers, his, Monique’s, Martin’s and a couple of others that he assured her she would want at some point if she needed to find him and he was not answering his cell. Not all of them were in Paris and some of the addresses were not even in France. He had added some of his favorite cafes, bistros, restaurants, shops and galleries, complete with their map locations to the list of numbers and names, but had left her more than plenty of unfilled pages that. My desires spiral through me and I moan. Rolling over on to my stomach, I can’t help but arch my pelvis into the bed, anything to get just a momentary relief. Spreading my legs, I lie there and wait, wait for it all to abate just a little. Panting breaths fall from my lips. My breasts are heavy and aching. My hands at my sides turn into fists as I try and fight, hoping to find a modicum of control. I can feel the creaminess between my thighs, and I moan as I slide into that dream state, feeling.