"For a mother of an eighteen year old son, I still looked good. I know my husband still likes what I look like. He tries to fuck me at least five time... a week." I heard the car horn.I ran downstairs, closed and locked the front door and headed for the car. My son was already in the seat. I sat down on his lap and swung my legs into the car. I looked down and notice my dress barely covered my thighs. It rode up pretty high. My son was wearing baggy shorts and a t-shirt. I closed the car door. I. I didn’t know if I believed him. I thought it was strange that he never once had given me even a hint about such a fetish. In the past, he couldn’t even handle me talking to another man. In fact, his jealousy had brought him close to fisticuffs on several occasions.But now he fantasizes about sharing me with other men? Unbelievable!After I drove around aimlessly for what seemed like forever, I saw a flashing neon sign up ahead that read, Stagecoach Bar and Grill. I thought the animated. More

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