I should have slipped back into my room, but I was held by my lust. I slipped my hand quietly inside the waistband of my jockey shorts to massage the ...rowing hardness of my prick. I'd seen boobs of every size, shape, and color, and yet none of them had aroused me in quite the same way that the sight of my mother's big, jiggling tits did as they bounced sensually up and down on her chest. I could see from where I stood that Mom was already cumming, yet she was continuing to grind her pelvis. Another bike ride; this time she seems a little more subdued, but does seem to be hugging me even more. At the apartment, she is quieter, like she is thinking. I try to keep the conversation going, apologizing for the mess and telling her about some of the people and things nearby.I take Wingman in and drop him on the floor where he makes off for his food bowl, his work done.I then take Karen’s soft hand in mine and give her the guided tour. She examines each of the paintings, though I’m not. More

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