Desi Mum And Son

“Mmmm,I love your cock.” He said. By now I was feeling so fucking horny I reached behind me and felt for his pants and squeezed his erection. I needed some sex now and I did not care that I was groping a man who was old enough to be my father. In fact the thought turned me on even more. H asked me to lay on the bed and I began to rub my own cock whilst Ken watched me at the same time stripping his clothes off. All the time, commenting on the size of my prick. He stood there totally naked and was aroused as much as me although slightly smaller in length; he had a fat cock and was uncut. He climbed onto the bed and stood over me and began wanking. I thought it was one of the horniest things I had ever seen. We hardly spoke and just petted each other for what seemed an eternity; finally he flopped onto the bed and put his hand inside his bag again. This time he pulled out a large double ended dildo, the ones you see in lesbian films and some lube in a tube. He asked me if I played with. She’d break for a banana, you know, for the potassium, and then attack the Nautilus machines. She was also becoming a babe. It was on that February day she handed me an envelope. I hadn’t gotten a Valentine’s card in many years. This one was simple, but deeply moving. In it, she thanked me for the hard work I’d made her do, and for the effort I’d put into reshaping her. I was truly moved. After work that day, around six-thirty, she invited me to a nearby deli. I had no plans, the wifey was working late most evenings, and picking up again when she got home, such was the nature of her work. I accepted. Just a bite together, right? Mentor and pupil, Mozart and Beethoven, Obi-Wan and Luke? We got our food and sat at a window table. The crowd was light, the day being what it was. We ate in companionable silence. ‘So,’ she said, after several minutes of small talk, ‘no plans for time with the missus this evening?’ She grinned, a tad wickedly. I studied her face. ‘No,’ I said after a beat,.
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