“Do not use blasphemous language in this house” shouted Mrs Whittingham angrily “that’s just earned you a further six strokes, so be warned”... the fourth and fifth strokes followed quickly. I gripped the settee harder and was literally trying to bite my tongue to stop saying anything. One by one the strokes followed, to the left buttock to the right across both and then two or three lower down which was making me whimper a little bit I was trying to be brave.“Eighteen” I heard and a really hard. Our chato o o o…. Pagal kar do o o o… Fir maine uski panty ko bhi utar di… Uski chhote chhote se baal wali pudi mere samne khul gayi… Jise dekhte hi mai pagla utha… Our uski bur ko apne muh me bhar liya… Our apni jibh se use khodne laga.. Mam ki halat kharab ho gayi… Unhone apne dono hath our pairo se mere sar ko dabaxa… Our chikh uthi maze me…. Ooohhh vicky y y y… Chodo o o o mujhe… Ab sahaa nahi jata… Pel do apna lund meri pyasi bur me…. Pleaseeee vickyyy…. Ab to mera rukna bhi namunkin tha….. I listen to her advice, I started pushing in and pulling out with all the strength in my body. Sarah was right, her ass felt warmer and hundreds of times better than a pussy. Pulsating and tightening like fist getting ready for a fight. The feeling of mother's asshole was beyond believe. Part of that fantasy in Pigly Wigly came true. I was pushing my mom's body forward in the slippery mud because of my anal thrusts. Her huge tits were swinging from side to side as if shaken by a hurricane. Her. I smiled. "Hi," said a petite, 40-something brunette, "I'm Chris." She wore a black floral-print dress that seemed just a little too short for the lunchtime crowd. She had small, perky tits that didn't need, or have, a bra. "Shawn," I said, reaching out to shake the offered hand. "Nice to meet you." "So, Shawn, is the food here worth the wait?" Chris asked. "I'm down from Tacoma to visit my daughter." "Couldn't say," I.