Ingrid squealed as he dug his fingers into the fleshy globes, spreading them wide. The squeal turned into a gasp of shock as her son pressed his mouth...to her puckered shit opening.Jimmy was an ass-licker! He was licking his own mother's asshole! Oh, God…"No, Jimmy!" But Ingrid still didn't try to pull away. Instead she dropped the cutting knife and held onto the edge of the counter, biting her lip as she pushed her hips back, thrusting her tingling, burning asshole onto her son's moth.Eagerly. " She wished me well at the end of the evening and I promised to call her with the details of my date with Harold Plumrose.On the Thursday I presented myself at the Clinic and was shown to Madame H right away. She was at her desk dressed in the same suit, it seemed, but this time in a maroon iteration with a cream blouse and with nude hose and a brown suede pumps. She had a silver tray before her with a carafe and two cups. "Good morning, Blane, would you like some coffee? Sit over here," she,. More

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