It was small, but meaty. I subconsciously let my hand drift to my crotch and I started to rub myself through my soft sweatpants, but just for a momen... before I caught myself and stopped. She nimbly wrapped her hair up in the towel after getting most of the droplets of water that had been relaxing on her tender smooth skin. Her mother used to do that. She was a spitting image of her, standing there, looking like that. I used to love to shower and bath with her mother. It was by far my favorite. “Please, Justin. I’ll do whatever you want,” she whispered through sobs and tears apparently trying to sound sexy. “Please, let me make it up to you,” she continued, as she pressed her mouth to my neck and slid one hand down to my crotch. The tears against my skin gave an interesting sensation, and no matter how mad I was, the heat of her mouth on my neck and her hand massaging my dick through my shorts got me rock-hard almost right away. She felt me growing harder in her hand, and sensed and. More

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