He started to lick me since he understood what I’m instructing him to do. He then carries me to his bed and start to smell my outer layer of panties... I then stopped him by holding his hair.Son: why mommy? You don’t like your own son smelling your aromatic pussy?Me: It’s not that young man! Carry me to my bed and fuck my fucking wet cunt there.Son: what’s wrong with this bed mom?Me: I want my son to fuck my brains off where his dad uses to fuck me once upon a time.Son: sure momma! I will take. OK, he could make a big thing of it and then only lightly spank her but then the thought of hitting her even gently with his hand went against the grain.On Monday evening, having fretted on and off all day, he had a flash of inspiration. His father had been in the Merchant Navy and had brought home all sorts of things from around the world that Richard had been loath to get rid of when he died. Among those things was a horse-hair fly whisk. It would make a super swishing sound but hardly do. More

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