So I can take them for my prize after our juices mingle in them." His finger had trouble finding ingress. I was dry as a witch. He pouted. "If you hang them over the front door, they're suppose to turn any MILF who walks under them into a slut." His voice lost power as his finger informed him of his incorrect assumption. He froze for a second, flashing his confusion.He brightened. "Oh, yeah, I'm suppose to do this." He spat into his hand and reached back to my puss. I had tired of punching him, but when his slick fingers penetrated my outer folds, I pounded his bed with my legs and fists, and I screamed. "Please, Son, don't do this!" It's okay, Mom. I'll take my time." His spit drenched fingers searched again and finally found my inner orifice. I expected him to thrust with all his might. Instead, he massaged my vaginal opening. With his other hand he toyed with my nipples, alternating between them. "We'll see who's book is right." He smiled down at me, confident in his religion.This. She extended a narrow, white hand and told me her name was Shireen and, yes, the waiting had made her quite hungry. So I told her my name and minutes later we shared an intimate little booth in the back of the hotel restaurant."I never do this," she said, after we had ordered."Neither do I," I assured her and we laughed. Her laugh was wonderful. It was held in check by her guarded lips, but her big eyes lit a sparkle that suited the silvery sound of it.She was married, she said. Only now did I see the modest ring she wore on her left hand. She thoughtfully turned it around on her finger. "My date was not with my husband."I considered the range of implications. Then I told myself it was none of my business. I smiled. "I assume the date was meant to be as innocent as ours will be?"She laughed again. The waiter poured our wine. We toasted. "To absent loved ones," I said.She sipped. "Loved ones?" she asked, emphasizing the s."Long story," I said."Aren't they always?"The waiter brought an.
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