Fucking On Indian Highway

It was over 2:00 by the time she came in asking me for lunch. She had cooked lunch and had bathed again and was fresh in a long skirt and a T Shirt. She looked like a fucking teenager, just out of school with her pert figure and small breasts. I wondered how she must have been the mother of a six foot tall me.We had a wonderful lunch. Not one time did the thought of dad come into the minds of either of us, nor were we surprised by that. This was life. It was a honeymoon. Fabulous food. Good. The slanted line of trucks not only blocked any view of the overflow lot from the highway or restrooms, it also blocked almost all light which meant that I was sitting in darkness. I still had, however, a clear view of both entrances.At exactly 9:15 the cellphone rang. I picked up on the second ring and answered with "Don't use any names on the phone. Not mine. Not yours. Not anyone else's. Do you understand that?" uhh... yes, I guess so. I just need to talk to someone about my mom and. He started to blush at that thought, and prayed they wouldn't notice hewas wearing a blouse. No, he screamed in his mind; it's a shirt. Believeit, and so will they.He decided to test his theory.He hooked the bra behind his back, getting good after practising for anhour or so.It was something he used to be able to do with ease when he cross-dressed regularly. In those days he had often day-dreamed about seeing aMistress. He'd even typed emails to a couple, but then dithered aboutsending the. Then she releases a gurgle from her throat and her hand almost tears off my cock as she strokes it with ferocity unlike before. I am shell-shocked by her a****listic display which I suppose is triggered by me calling her "Mommy". But I am not one to be left behind as I too attack her tits. I bite her and chew those mammaries of hers."Mommy," I call her once again, making her contort her body. This cycle goes on for some time as I call her mommy between my bouts of slobbering, licking, mauling,.
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