“Not fuckin likely”. “Come on Matthew—we just wanna talk. Use that head on your shoulders and hear us out”. “I ain't gotta lot of time, so...come on”.I ushered them back to the kitchen and topped off my coffee. Didn't even offer them any. Then down to the basement, they took a seat each in the beanbags, and I in the recliner. I assumed an arrogant position, slumping down in the chair, and spreading my hairy muscled legs, just enough to let my junk hang free, and visible from their angle.. The next lady had a Latino look to her, quite pretty, in her mid-thirties I thought.It was the last lady however I was most happy to see. It was Helena, Melora’s mother. I was sure of it. I had brought some of Melora’s photos of her mother with me on my computer, in case I wasn't sure.But it was immediately obvious it was her. She had that lovely dirty grin, and that dirty blonde hair too. She wore a light pink see through sarong, under which she wore a skimpy white bikini.Her tits looked. More

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