Splot. ... And another ... splot ... and another ... splot!Each drop spread as it hit, staining Mom's white panties brown. The panties were made of a ...otton that, now wet in spots, showed more detail of what was underneath than when it was dry, kind of like a wet t-shirt. I returned with a full penload and dripped more hot chocolate, this time working around a central wet spot in a circle, extending the area of detail. Mom had very little hair, if any. Her pussy could have been bald as far as I. Relentlessly.Six nights since he'd taken me. And make no mistake, I'd willingly lethim. I'd wanted it, needed it. He'd ignited in me tingles that weredemanding it, insisting that he slide his seven-and-a-bit inches of thickpulsing maleness into my ass. Into my pussy.Into my soul.It was, to that point, the greatest night of my life. The greatestexperience I'd ever had, bar none.Not yet one week ago, when I'd discovered what tingles were.The tingles that can only be felt when one is truly. More

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