I celebrated my half-century standing beside her fresh grave. She’d looked so worn and tired before that surgery. Too tired to come out of it, appar...ntly. The woman leaning over me looked tired, too. I wondered if I was the reason.There was something else, though, besides her being younger than I remembered last. I didn’t remember her ever wearing her hair curled up like a French poodle on top of her head. And she was wearing makeup. Back in 1952, as I remembered it ... well, Mom was no June. His cock reaches out to greet her parted lips but she passes by to kiss his inner thighs. Her tongue greedily explores his shaft while her soft hands cradle the boys. She slaps his head on her outstretched tongue before wrapping her wet mouth around him and taking him deep in her throat. She observes him torn between watching the show and closing his eyes with his head leaning against the door and enjoying the variety of sensations she creates with differing pressure and speed. "Let's go. More

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