That wasn’t right. I was a slut. I’d do it when they asked, I knew. I was a tart, a slut. Jack, my eighteen year old son was controlling me. He pu...hed my buttons, turned me on. How did I let my own son turn me on, control me so I’d do anything. Because I was a slut, why else. He was going to sell me, and his sister. Whore us both. I didn’t care, I was excited by the thought. Slut. My daughter was just like me, a slut. My husband, didn’t know. He was a workaholic, away most of the time. He’d. A car horn blared right below me and i jerked in a panic. The string of cum snapped and the droplet splashed over the side and down onto the sidewalk. I looked at the cars coming to a stop right below our balcony, scanning them as they stopped at the red light, looking to see if i had been noticed. I couldn't tell which car had honked.I heard a sliding door slam somewhere, so i scanned all the balconies on both sides of the street. Again, i couldn't tell where the noise came from. There was. All through this time, my cock, was rock hard at doing such a forbidden thing, spying on young girls, talking about their sexual power over men. My hand gravitated towards my cock, unzipped softly and grabbed it. There was so much precum leaking that I spread it all over my aching knob and started to stroke. I really needed to lose this load that Stacey was seeming to will out of me. I had convinced myself that she could actually smell my pre-cum, just as I could smell her slight arousal from. As all the material of the top gathered around her neck on the backside, exposing her glowing and magnificent back to me, I pulled the garment up from the back side and after some effort I took it over her head. I just had to take it out of her arms then. I went back a step, admiring her shapely back and moved to her front. As I started moving the garment down her arms, her wonderful breasts started showing, bit by bit. She seemed lost and wasn’t saying anything at all. I was mesmerized by the.
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