Her pouty nipples were drawn tight, her belly was hard as a rock and a flush was working it’s way up her chest. My little girl was fixin’ to cum h...rd. “Mama, I’m too full!” she whined with the intrusion. “Shh baby girl, let Mama check to make sure he’s fucking you raw.”“It burns!”Her little pussy was stretched tightly around us both and I could feel his rigid length hot and heavily veined against my finger. I felt no ring of thin latex, no condom. He was fucking her bare. “See Mama?” she. She was wearing a pink cotton oxford shirt. It was 1981, and everyone had one or two cotton oxfords in their closet. They were pastel colors with button-down collars. His was light blue. Most of the girls all owned a similar shirt. Some were yellow, some were lavender, and light blue is always popular with the girls as well. But pink was Brent's favorite – and no one wore a pink cotton oxford shirt like she did at that moment.If one were to look back, they could almost ask how on earth she got. More

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