The end product was hearty red wines that the farmers either consumed themselves, gave to family, friends or neighbors, or bartered for other needed i...ems—such as barrels. The tasting of the aging wines was something formal: it might take us a couple of hours and the reloading of Dad’s pipe several times before he—seriously considering my input—would decide. Some days we never reached a conclusion and had to try again the next day. I don’t remember that we ever spit, but I clearly recall that I. "I love your slutty pussy Mom..I can't stop fucking you". Mom was rocking back and forth with me until I was winded again and fell over on the bed. Mom just laid there almost u*********s with her legs spread and her pussy gushing fresh cum. George was loving watching this stud son fuck his mother and he knew he had to have more of her sweet snatch. He dropped to his knees and drove his face between her legs and started to devour all that cum Mom had inside her. When she felt him sucking. More

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