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She stepped right in front of me on the street, her head down and her hand out, "Spare a shilling, sir?" she said with a quaver.There was something familiar about her. As I dug in my purse she looked up at me with dark, bloodshot eyes, and my cock jumped in recognition."I know you," I told her, searching my memory. "There was a fire. Who are you?"She twisted away and started to run but her clumsy wooden clogs skidded on the mossy bricks, and she went down. I pulled her to her feet, feeling how little she weighed and how thin her arm was, and led her to the nearest tavern, plunked her down on the inside of a bench and sat, blocking her escape.I got us some stew and some ale, and she ate as if she had not eaten for a week. I studied her as she did. Her hair was crudely chopped off, tangled and filthy, her skin grimy, her cheekbone bruised, her lips split and puffy, her clothes little more than rags. Her wrists were thin and her jaw line sharp."I remember you, at the widow's farm, in. I started the car they both were in the back seat of the car. They both were looking at each other like hungry lions. But they also have a fear that what I will say when we get home. I saw in the mirror that my son put his hands on my wife’s thighs and started to rub them.My wife let out a small moan and guided his hand towards her pussy. My son started to finger her pussy. She held his head and started to kiss without thinking that I am in the front seat. Now both of them got aroused and started to kiss wildly.My wife opened my son’s pant and mouth fucked his tool for some time. Then my son pulled her saree and her blouse and squeezed her huge breasts. I know I can’t drive home. I don’t want anybody in our locality to know what is happening in the car.So I drove the car into the woods which is also a huge park. But still, it is a forest area. My son now ripped her all clothes and made her sit in his lap. He started giving his best strokes. She still had half covered blouse and half.
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