"You know that was wrong, don't you? I demanded. "You're my slut. And that's my pussy. I say when it gets fucked and I say who fucks it. What's happen... to slutty bad girls?" "They get spanked," she said. "That's right. Now I need to know more information so I can figure out what your punishment is going to be," I said. "How many times did you get fucked?" "Since I last saw you?" she said. "Five times. I got fucked by my wife five times." "Anyone else?" I asked. She looked up, surprised. "No.". My tits jiggled with my every movement. I shuddered, my hijab framing in my lush and mature face. Wearing the symbol of modesty while clad in something so blatantly immodest had me trembling, my snatch clenching.Why was I so turned on? Because my eldest son, Faizel, waited outside of the changing room eager to see me in this. To ogle my flesh and approve the outfit for my “date” with young Carter tomorrow night.An entire night with another boy who wasn't my husband. A boy who'd pay for that. More

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