We took our time, cuddling and caressing each other frequently, and taking any excuse to rub together. It was lots of fun, and acted like extended for...play. So did the flirty behaviour during dinner. From our first date together, she had always found a way to rest her breasts on the table during our meals. She knew I was a sucker for those beautiful boobs, and took advantage of that knowledge. She would stretch her arms over her head, and arch her back, thrusting that magnificent chest out. I'm having such a good time. I'm having a ball.Mom glanced up at me as she tickled my urinary meatus and jiggled my churning testicles in their wrinkly sack. "I know it does," she said with a smile, "Your Father used to love me doing it for him."Ah, the old man. Stupid Dad. Why the hell did he disappear like that? Why would you not want any more blow jobs from someone who was obviously so dammed good at it like Mom? Come to think of it, Mom had never really explained what had happened between. More

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