.mmmmm....ahhhh."It was unmistakable. And it was coming from downstairs. I was lying here jerking off, and Laura was playing with her sloppy little cu...t again. I was amazed.I got back to working my cock, but was now listening rather than fantasizing, and trying to time my strokes between hers so that I could hear better. After a minute or so, we were in perfect rhythm; my hand slid down my cock to the wet sound of my precum and a squeak from the bed, I stopped, and another moan or gasp came. I didn’t know what they were at first until my sister told me that they were my mother’s anal beads. That she stuffed this in her hairy butthole.....so after we found all of my moms dildos we also found a big squirt bottle tub of “anal lube”I can still remember the label which was black with white lettering. My sister took the lube out and I picked up the big fat dildo and felt it’s girth and weight. I held it up to my face and studies the rubber veins that ran down its shaft, the length of it. I'd started writing erotica when Sasha turned twelve years old and began to show signs of puberty; small buds breaking the plane of her T-shirts and a maturity emerging in how she carried herself, no longer the little girl racing everywhere, hair flying. Her emerging adolescence had been powerfully attractive to me and in my erotic stories I could experience what in reality was forbidden and unattainable. I could live my sexual fantasies.Lunch was a gourmet grilled chicken, roasted red pepper,. I got ‘dressed’ at home but would meet everyone in just lingerie and a robe. It felt different wearing slacks over a garter belt, panties and stockings. When I checked into the room [around four pm] I was nervous and had that horny/ready-to-be-fucked feeling all over. Seven o’clock was arriving rapidly. I’d opened a bottle of wine and just relaxed for a while; before putting the final touches on my makeup and making sure I looked like I was ready to get fucked. When seven o’clock came around.
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