Her breasts heaved.Lust shone in her eyes.I kissed her lips as one hand seized her breast again. I growled as I squeezed hard on her tit. She shuddere..., moaning into the kiss. My other hand ripped at the lacing of her leather britches. I shoved the tight clothing down, my fingers running across her smooth pudenda.Then I found her shaved heat. Wet lust coated my fingers as I rubbed at her pussy. Her hand found my cock, stroking it, while the other grasped the back of my neck and squeezed,. He had grown up with the stories of how his parents had met. And he had lived everyday with the proof of that love staring him square in the face. There was no one his father, Anthony Marks, loved more in this than his wife and children. Abigail, his mother, was destined for sainthood with her ability to put up with his father’s antics, still continue to love his bonehead-self, and not to mention the fact that she put up with his bonehead offspring. Their love had lasted since they had met. More

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