They all had names, oddly enough the same names as my mother and my aunts. Those would be my mother's older sisters. The rototiller was my favorite, b...cause as far as I knew, my Aunt Liza hadn't come within twenty feet of any actual soil for her entire life. I had never been allowed to set foot in her house, because teenage boys were the living embodiment of dirt.The others? Aunt Diane, Aunt Caroline? I hated them, too. I might have mentioned earlier that the one thing my mother liked about. Billy's mother did not seem the least concerned with his interest in her boxes of stockings. In fact, she encouraged him to play with them because it kept him occupied so should could completed her household chores.What Billy enjoyed even more than playing with his mother's collection of unworn, boxed stockings, was seeing her putting them on. Her routine each morning was almost predictable.Once his older brother was off to school and his father well on his way to work, Billy's mother would. Without being told, I crawl over to the hot brunette and wipe my tongue all over her luscious, cum covered cunt. After lapping up the soft, hairless outer lips I surround her clit, sucking on it. I push two fingers into her well lubricated hole, flexing them against her g-spot as my tongue feathers against her excited nub. She moans, grabbing my head and pulling me into the soft folds of her womanhood. Reaching up with my free hand, I gently knead her right breast, feeling her nipple harden in. " Martha said, "It's nice to just sit and hold hands. Steven, remember the Suzore's, and all those Bowery Boys movies?"I cleared my throat and lifted my head slightly to murmur, "Yeah, I remember that. I even had dreams about it. She's a great hand holder."Martha gave a pleased little laugh and said, "Dreams? You liked holding hands with me that much?"I nodded yes and then I felt Martha lower her head. Her hair grazed my shoulder and her lips touched my back. She skimmed her lips across my.
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