Fucking My Desi Bhabi

A few others, those who have been through the experience themselves and understand the emotional impact, would claim that it's both. My son and I are certainly in that last category.This story rightfully starts in 1987, when I was thirty-seven and Paul thirteen. I knew even before Paul did, that he had a problem. One morning I came downstairs dressed in only my bathrobe to make Paul breakfast. After a minute or two of wandering back and forth between refrigerator and cupboard, cabinet and sink, chatting with him aimlessly as mothers do with their children, I realized that Paul's eyes were following me everywhere I went. I was bent over at the time with the front of my robe hanging open loosely, and although the angle was wrong, I could feel the intensity of his desire to see my bare breasts. It shocked me, to say the least. I reacted as any mother would: I jerked upright and covered myself quickly, blushing madly as I did so. It was the last time I let myself be around Paul in. As he started getting into a rhythm and Lisa become accustomed to his size they both began to relax. As Lisa relaxed I let loose of her hair only to have Doug grab it and yank her head back. He started talking nasty to her again. He asked her how she like having a big black cock in her tight little white cunt and she tried shaking her head yes but couldn’t so Doug asked her again. Finally she figured out she was supposed to use her voice and she said “Oh God I love it! Fuck me harder with that big black monster!” Doug asked her if she was ready to admit to being a whore for black cock and Lisa let out a deep moan and started convulsing into another orgasm. Doug yanked his cock from her pussy and her eyes sprang open as she cried out “No…” Doug said “I asked you a question whore!” Lisa started babbling “Oh God Yes, I’m a whore. I’m a black cock loving whore! You and Phil can sell my pussy anytime just please put your dick back in me and let me cum!” Doug told her what a good girl she.
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