Their praise drips over me like sweetest sugary syrup and I want to twirl and dance in these moment of feeling utterly beautiful and desirable. “Are...your nipples sensitive?” Helen inquires, smiling like a cat. She knows what she is doing and she enjoys it. “They are,” I whisper in response. “Very much so.” Even at that moment, I can feel that sensitivity when they strain against the fabric that covers them. “Robert’s got a magic tongue. It’s incredible what he can do to my nipples,” she tells. Uhmm…let me get out of your way” as I stepped over him. In and effort to not step on him…had to look, my eyes automatically went back to his cock.My psyche tried in vain to supplant morality for the lustful vision of my own son’s penis floating in my brain. Damn…I needed a drink.Made it down to the beach, spread a towel on a beach chaise, adjusted my sunglasses, and got comfortable. The first daiquiri soothed the quandary of my conflicting thoughts and started me on the path to ignoring some of. More

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