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------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------“Did you finally tell your husband ?”, asked Sandra as she put on her belt“Of course not”, whispered Lola“Better tell him soon or I will “, answered SandraLola started to sob as she did after every meetingThen the alarm clock went off. ==============================================================================THE SEWING CLASSThree times a week, the guards of the women’s prison let in Selma, an attractive middle-age black woman, who was responsible for giving sewing classes to a dozen or so female inmates. The guards liked Selma since she always brought them nice things to eat, or to wear or even some which were i*****l if you were an inmate but not really if you were a guard. Selma also entertained familiar relationships with some of the female guards and some select inmates. That also had a price and she paid.That morning Selma sat in front of the class as usual. The. The muscles of her flat stomach rippled beneath her smooth flesh, and she lifted her head from the pillows as the orgasm clutched her. A loud scream of ecstasy burst from her mouth, and her hips became a whirlwind of gyrating wildness.Lewis clutched his mother’s tight ass cheeks as she came, his tongue lapping about her clitoris. He sucked and licked until she became still, her ass slumping to the mattress. Her tits heaved up and down as she relaxed; gasping harshly.He scooted up beside her, pressing his cock against her still trembling hip.Barbara closed her fingers on his prick, feeling so sleepy she could hardly keep her eyes open.“I can’t stay awake, baby,” she murmured. “I know you’ve got one hell of a hard-on, but I can’t stay awake.”“That’s okay, Mother,” he whispered, caressing her tit. “You go to sleep. I can wait until you wake up.”“You’re sweet, Lewis,” she mumbled, turning her back to him and drawing her knees up. She squirmed her ass against his groin, feeling his cock.
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Luckily there was plenty of dead-fall available and we were soon back at the shelter and, while mother dragged the firewood inside, I grabbed the heap of blackened rocks that were stacked at the side of the shelter and threw them into the doorway before, with a sigh of relief, following them in.We both stood there, literally dripping wet, and looking out at a dark gloomy vista outside. It was almost as dark as early evening and the rain was absolutely thundering down, making a very loud din as it beat on the roofing-iron of our shelter. It was almost impossible to talk but I managed to tell her to get out of her wet gear and wrap up in her rug. As Mom began to follow my suggestion, I up-ended the table, moved it into the doorway, partially blocking off one side before constructing a circle of rocks beside it, just under the roofs protection, for our fireI removed some of the contents of my pack onto the bench-seat at one end and watched Mom out of the corner of my eye, as I did so..

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