Just at eight pm, the phone rang. She reached over and turned it on in speaker. “Emma are you in bed like you were told to?” “Yes sir, all tucke... in for the night.” “Hands above the covers, no touching.”“Yes, Sir.” “Good night,” and he was gone. Emma did so want to touch, scratch the itches that Donald got started in her again this afternoon. Instead, she kept her hands outside the cover as she was told. At her side, so as not to be tempted to try to rub through her comforter at herself. But. Like fornicating facing away from her partner, my personal favourite position.It was my hypothesis that mother got hot when she is forced to do things that a lady simply would not do. Things that she had always denied herself and needed me, her son, to force upon her. Things that would horrify the church members if they knew.I was still far away from an orgasm and I began to wonder if dad would finally catch his wife and son in a very compromising position. This needed something more drastic to. More

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