That perfume I can still bring to mind, a feminine, aroma of a woman`s wet sex that is as individual as a fingerprint, a mix of damp sexual secretions... perspiration and perhaps a tiny hint of urine, that most heady of cocktail`s that I knew was my mother`s own, having sniffed the crutch of her used panties many times. My hand explored her legs, smooth soft solid muscled working legs, no showgirl my mum, but a solid reliable working woman, well-shaped but capable of a good day`s, standing and. “Are you just gonna sit there with that dick pointing at me or are you gonna get up and get out of here before I club your ass with a lamp or something?” She was attempting to be threatening, but her eyes were absolutely locked on his junk. “Were you watching me in the shower earlier?” he asked without moving a muscle. The question caught her off guard and she didn’t know how to respond or even what to say. It was clear that she wasn’t going to scold him and make him run away. This. More

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