Firm hands were holding my hips and something bloody big was thrusting into me. I hadn’t invited a guy, who was it? I turned my head. Oh sweet mothe... of Mary, it was my mum with a frickin huge black strap-on, thrusting into my arse. And she was shamelessly naked.And the hoe was giving me a lecture, “You bad girl , you grubby little tart, you slut whore , how dare you “ and she thrust as deep as she could and I yelped , a strange mixture of the vulnerable and wanting more , because of that so,. You wish you could say that it made you stronger, more confident, but you failed to keep your momentum going, so months and eventually years passed without any further experience.You should've known it was too good to be true, that a girl like that would be so interested in you off the bat. But I mean, come on, who could've predicted that she'd turn out to be the kind of backstabbing witch you only read about in stories? Not you, oblivious as you are to the inner workings of the female mind.You. More

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