That is so good!," Henry said abruptly. "If you want Mrs. Anderson, I can fuck you. Mom said you'd really like the feel of my cock." Patty was puzzle.... "How would Margret know what her son's cock feels like? And what did he say about me being as good as his mom?" Patty sat back on her heels, gasping, her cheeks bright with a mixture of satisfaction, lust, and boy-cum. Henry was stripping off his t-shirt and kicked off his shoes, Patty hesitated, her fingers on the belt holding her robe. But he did not notice a chill to the air, for his brow glistened with the sweat of passion and tension seethed inside him. His toes flexed and churned, torn between flight and fight. He listened to the muffled sounds just beyond the thin hollow paneled door of their modest home, his mind racing as it attempted to interpret every nuance into a detail for the running image his imagination created. His wife and her lover making the music of love with heavy rhythms and soft shuffling bass lines. He. More

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