The last thing I could recall of my father was how we argued over my decision to quit school and learn magic from my teacher. My last memory of mother...was making her cry. I always thought if things didn’t work out, I could always return home.I turned the key and pushed open the front door. It was a familiar guesthall. Cobwebs covered the ceiling and furniture, but everything was pretty much the way I had left it. The old CRT TV, so retro even when I was a child was still there. My father’s old. Shocked, I opened my eyes and looked into hers.We held eye contact, coming to an understanding. She smiled. It was Mary Ann giving me the okay to go ahead. I pushed and watched her eyes. She grunted. I pushed again. She lifted her legs to give be greater access. My cock felt the warm wet walls of her pussy surrounding it. She smiled again and pushed up to meet me. Fully engaged, we moved together, enjoying the event as if it was our first time together. Being Mary Ann, she didn't talk until she. More

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