At my age, an eighteen-year-old is too much trouble; too much drama.”She thought about that for a minute. “So how old are you, then, Mr. Simpson? ... mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”“Sixty-two,” I admitted, still liking that she was calling me “Mister”.“Perfect,” she muttered.“What?”“Um, you don’t look sixty-two.” Which is true, not to brag or anything. But I wasn’t convinced that she was complimenting me. It sounded more like a diversionary tactic.“So how old are you?”“Thirty, as of a month. This is wrong uh... Danny's right there." Mom panted. "He doesn't seem to mind." Trish said passionately glancing at me as she continued to work over my mom. Trish turned back to my mom and as she stared into my mother's eyes she started violently press my mom's g spot. Mom moaned out as her pussy began to gush with every touch."Mmmm that's it mrs.b." Trish whispered as she latched down hard on my mom's tit. Mom let out a loud moan as a shivering went up her spine. She looked down at Trish. More

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