“I shot him.” Silence filled the car. Mary's hand was holding mine, gently squeezing. Her hand was warm and comforting. My dad was dead. My mom sh...t him. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say. I opened my mouth, worked my jaw, but nothing came out. What could I say? What should I do? My dad was dead. The bastard was dead. A ragged sob came over the speakers of my Mustang, my phone synced up to the car stereo via bluetooth. “Mark, I don't know what to do,” sobbed my mom over the. The tension was so high that with 5 minutes of stroking with her bra around my dick I shot out very high. After washing my hands and dick I kept her bra with a small bit of sperm stain and went out to the hall. She was sitting on the single sofa, “Come, darling, sit here.”She tapped on the hand rest and instructed me to sit there. I noticed her nighty zip was fully closed before. But now it was around 3 inches lowered (that is like almost halfway through of the zip). The stare she gave me just. More

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