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His lust for performing buggery on his mother and aunt was only exceeded by their hunger for it.Kath admired Mike's body. He was slim and very boyish looking, his body athletic enough to hint at adulthood, but still pale and lithe to indicate his adolescent status. Most men lusted after teenage girls, even fourteen or fifteen year olds, and so Kath and Claire figured it wasn't in anyway abnormal to lust after a boy of that age."Fuck me Mikey," panted Claire, gripping the duvet, "Oh God fuck my arse. Harder. NGGG!"Mike responded by stepping up a pace, pumping his 8" cock back and forth in his mother's slick shitter in long, quick strokes.Bringing her hand to her face, Kath sucked on her index finger for a moment or two, before reaching down to her arse. She cupped her buttocks, running her nails over the skin, before easing her finger between her bum cheeks and to her anus. Her sphincter instinctively contracted when it felt touched, but Kath was easily able to relax it as she poked. It didn't cheer him much on those occasions when he let himself brood on the shame and humiliation she'd heaped on him that afternoon in Dallas. There were too many things left unexplained... things that had crushed him at the time... but things Ashley was more than happy to forget as fast as she could. She had shamed herself too and suffered herself. Hers was a self-imposed chastisement; Brad hadn't had a choice.Seemingly, Ashley didn't understand some things she'd said to Brad as they sat on the sofa watching the girls. For instance, she'd remarked a couple of times on the "excitement" she'd felt. She even blamed it for having been overwhelmed in the hotel lobby. It told him she craved excitement... she missed it.She'd also told him very solemnly the sexual atmosphere there, real or perceived, was not a part of what had happened. Brad knew different. Ashley was truthful... but she didn't seem to realize sex was the source of the excitement. The breathless anticipation of the sex.
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Nor could she imagine how to find him in the large restaurant, with several different dining rooms, or one of the conference rooms, on the top floor. Several weeks later, in the middle of the night, Gail sat straight up in bed, awakened from a dream where a man leaned over to whisper in her ear, ‘Have a nice day, beautiful.’ It was a dream she’d had on several other nights for the previous six months. It wasn’t something that haunted her, but it did send chills up her spine as a pleasant memory. Yet there was something about the look in the man’s eyes when she looked up at him that caused Gail to think about him for the remainder of the day. It was difficult to have her day continually interrupted by memories of the strange man she did not even know. Gail didn’t have time for such thoughts. She had too much to prepare for the day and evening. Her boss was leading an afternoon discussion group for a day-long international conference and he was the primary speaker at the evening.

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