She dropped my bra to the floor and wrapped her fingers around my breasts, studying my expression when she touched me. “That’s the problem with su...missives, see. They get turned on by just about anything. Like cats on heat. Ever got yourself off on a lamp post?” “I’m not a submissive, thank you very well!” Shit, the last bit of my countenance just flew out the window. She didn’t react to my jab. Her fingers reached for the zipper on my skirt instead, and a second later I was almost completely. I took one last look in the mirror. I thought to myself. “For a mother of an eighteen year old son, I still looked good. I know my husband still likes what I look like. He tries to fuck me at least five times a week.” I heard the car horn.I ran downstairs, closed and locked the front door and headed for the car. My son was already in the seat. I sat down on his lap and swung my legs into the car. I looked down and notice my dress barely covered my thighs. It rode up pretty high. My son was. More

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