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" I handed Jane a hairbrush and, slipping off her panties, she demonstrated how in her post-graduate years she used to get off. This time, she gradually slipped the smooth plastic handle between her dripping lips until it sank all the way in, then pushed it in and out. With the other hand she massaged her clitoris which, as her excitement began to mount, bobbed its little head in and out in the most fantastic manner. Until then I believed what the sexologists said. That the clitoris, when excited, disappeared like a thief in the night into its tent not Jane's. By now my own excitement began to mount shedding my shorts, I took my bobbing penis in my right hand (some men prefer their left) and, the way I used to, began the slow ejaculation of my stiff organ's satiny skin until the glans ballooned up to the size of an overripe plum. Sensing Jane's approaching orgasm I moved closer and quickened my own strokes to match hers. Then Jane started to moan I moved my working fist faster,. She led me to the sofa anxiously, eagerly. I stopped worrying about Carla. Let her catch me. I had to do this. I had to. Mom lay back on the sofa, hiking her dress up to her waist as she did so and revealing black pantyhose with panties beneath. She held her arms out for me. ‘Take me, Peter,’ she said. Groaning, I fumbled with my pants. Mom sat forward to help and deftly freed my cock. Her hands were coool on my shaft. She opened her mouth and I almost fainted as she took me inside. Soft, moist, hot, her tongue eager but not very talented. It didn’t matter. It was Mom! I pulled away from her before I could cum. She had drool on her chin, gasping, calling Dad’s name in a whisper. I shoved her back, crazed now. Mom complied by scrambling with her dress again, shoving her hose down. I almost hurt myself getting my pants down. Mom moaned as she liftd her legs into the air. I got my first look at her pussy by the light spilling in from the hall. She was completely shaved and glistening.
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