We lived just outside of town off the interstate in a nice two bedroomed bungalow with a decent sized garden for Chewie to run around in. Chewie is my...dog. I can talk to Chewie because Chewie just sits there and listens. Unlike Mom. Mom just pretended to listen most of the time."Mom?" Hmmmm?" she said from behind her newspaper."Do you have dreams?" Everyone has dreams, hon."I know that. "No, what I mean is. Do people have dreams that are special?"The paper dropped slightly and she peered at me. I reached forward, grasped her shoulders and pulled her body up slightly and started to thrust into her as hard as I could. She began to groan loudly as I slammed into her but she shouted “faster” at me. I increased my pace and she stuck her hand down the front of her knickers and began to rub herself. Her groan increased in volume and length.I started to thrust as fast as I could. As I slammed into her buttocks her breasts bounced so much I thought they might pop out of her bra. Her gasps got. More

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