There followed the scramble to pull down bras and shirts, and button jeans. They weren’t actually having sex, but they were close. I was a teenager ...nce myself so I understood where they were coming from. But on the other hand, I guess I was going to play the part of her father. I gave the boy a really hard look and said, ‘Get boy!’ I almost laughed as he ran for the door, bent over at the waist. I remembered how hard it was to stand up when you had an erection stuffed in tight jeans. (We’d. I took one last look in the mirror. I thought to myself. "For a mother of an eighteen year old son, I still looked good. I know my husband still likes what I look like. He tries to fuck me at least five times a week." I heard the car horn.I ran downstairs, closed and locked the front door and headed for the car. My son was already in the seat. I sat down on his lap and swung my legs into the car. I looked down and notice my dress barely covered my thighs. It rode up pretty high. My son was. More

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