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" Ohh wow, that feels really good, Mom."Tom listened but could hear much besides his son's heavy breathing.Jen's voice spoke up. "Mnn, do you like that, sweetheart?" Yeah!" Brian sighed.As he continued to listen, Tom sensed someone at his office door. He swiveled around and discovered his wife Jen standing in the doorway. She looked so beautiful in her light colored sundress and matching high-heeled sandals. "I brought you some lunch," she smiled lovingly, batting her eyelashes.The door closed behind her as she strode over to her husbands desk. She glanced at the cell, then at her husband and smiled a smile that could melt steel."Oh yess, Mommy likes to make you feel good," they heard Jen's voice say."Is that true?" Tom asked.Jen got a little smile and nodded her head. "Of course. I love to give Brian back rubs. I've done it since he was little." Back rubs huh?"Jen slipped her tiny bare feet out of her heels and sat down on his lap. Her full meaty ass felt amazing, even against his. If she didn't, she'd find herself out in the street in short order.Wanda worked frantically all day, washing, scrubbing, polishing... even took Bette Jean some soup and milk on a tray at lunch time. She'd looked sick all right, deep circles under her eyes and wouldn't even pass the time of day. Wanda probed a little but with no results at all. Not a word about anything. Nothing useful that she could use... but if she listened long enough and snooped, she'd find out just what the hell was going on. She had to! Couldn't go back home if she wanted to and she sure as hell didn't.Gary went into his mother's bedroom the minute he got home that afternoon. Christ he was tired. He'd walked for hours all over hell's half acre. School had been unthinkable though his father had given him a ride there this morning. He'd cut out the minute his father's truck turned the corner.He tiptoed in quietly and stood looking down at his mother. She looked so small and vulnerable, her beautiful face pale.
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I gasp as you start pushing into me. My whole body aches, burning ache, sweat erupting from every pore. It happens every time, I am with you. The way you drive me to beyond and back. You enter me and I let out a small scream this time. I don’t remember ever feeling you so hard, so swelled, so big. We are out on the street, and you are not even nearly done, so you put one hand over my mouth as I hear you whispering ‘This is just the beginning, my dear…’ – your voice rings close to my ear, whispers that cut through, razor sharp. I don’t know whether to be glad or afraid… if I were a wise woman, I’d be afraid, if I were a wise woman I would not be here, at this time in the Quartier, pretending to be somewhere else… You are, indeed living by your word, as you pull in and out of me, your huge hand clamped firmly over my mouth, like a wall, frustrating all attempts every scream that builds in my lungs make to feel the air of the night. ‘It suits you so well, my dear, being fucked up the.

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