I hitched my ass up off the seat and had my hose halfway down over my butt when the bartender returned.He placed our fresh drinks on the table but he ...didn't move.I groaned in humiliation but I didn't stop what I was doing. The bartender stood right there and stared as I finished pulling my hose down over my ass and sat back down.I couldn't look up. I continued sliding my pantyhose down my legs. It was harder to remove them while sitting in that booth than I thought it would be. I slipped my. My mind was racing and Sara could possibly hear my brain churning over with the desire I craved, 'Four years Mother', she quietly whispered, adding, 'go get it, no one will blame you'.If I was trying to hide my own rising libido, I was failing miserably, my voice felt thick, like treacle, my palms were sweaty, and my slumbering pussy, so long dormant, screamed for that cock being teased in front of our watching eyes, 'Fucking hell Sara it like a male strip show', I know she was my daughter,. "Where you please," returned Monte Cristo, "since I know nothing at all of it." I thought the Abbe Busoni had told your excellency." Some particulars, doubtless, but that is seven or eight years ago, and I have forgotten them." Then I can speak without fear of tiring your excellency." Go on, M. Bertuccio; you will supply the want of the evening papers." The story begins in 1815." Ah," said Monte Cristo, "1815 is not yesterday." No, monsieur, and yet I recollect all things as clearly as if they. . it was all down her throat. His balls churned and he lifted his hips and pulled on her braids. His cum began to pour into her mouth. It came out like a never-ending stream... like a garden hose with a broken shut off valve. His mother sucked it all in, moving her hand to squeeze the last drops from his balls. Finally she pulled away and looked up at him. Her jaws were puffed out. "Are you my nasty cock sucking bitch?" he asked. In answer, she suddenly opened her mouth where all his sticky.