Aunty Recording With Fucking Her Pussy
Just like that, the model I had lusted after so much was there, in the room with me, naked, willing.It was too good to be true. Worry seized me. What if this screwed things up? What if she hated herself tomorrow?“Mom!” I said, probably too loudly.She looked at me.“Are you sober?”Cut me a little slack, here. I had been dropped into an episode of some science fiction serial, into an alternate dimension, perhaps. I wasn’t at my best, in terms of clear thinking. My mind just threw out what I was worried about.“Pretty much,” she said.Now that reply could be taken two ways, in my own alcohol-fogged mind. One way was that her intent in bringing me to her bedroom and getting naked had nothing to do with sex. Rather, maybe she intended to put on some outfit and ask me if I thought it looked good on her. Or maybe she intended to take a shower and wanted me to guard the door. Maybe she wanted to teach me how to knit. It could mean she wasn’t so drunk that she’d commit full-blown incest.On the. With the day ahead and worrying about Danny in the Show-Me-State, I’m not going to get back to sleep. I swing my legs to the floor and run my hands down them. Yikes. I need a shave. Why? The only male the stubble ever bothers is Danny. I grab my running shorts and a tank top off the chair and slide into them. I keep a treadmill in the spare bedroom so I can run while Danny eats his breakfast. He has a little desk next to my treadmill that he uses as a table where he eats his cereal. He comes in and watches one of his shows while I run. With him gone, I could run through the great outdoors. I peek out the window and it looks like a nice day. Screw it. I need a lazy morning. I don’t have to get Danny ready. I might as well give myself a break this morning. On my running chart I put an ‘X’ on today’s date. I allow myself three ‘X’s a month. This is my first for May. The rest of the days it’s three treadmill miles at eight miles per hour. I stick my head in the fridge and begin to pull.
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