.. ever. Very often I'll let my mind and hands take over. I touch him with one hand (which doesn't rouse him in the least) while I get myself off with...the other while thinking of my latest naughty fantasy (which I've now begun turning into stories). Anyway...I couldn't resist the urge to touch myself while my son's stuff was dripping out of me. The thought turned me on nearly as much as fucking him in the first place. I snuggled right up to Hubby and caressed him with my left hand, as was my. Shit, shit shit. The opening was big enough to stick her shoulders through, and she did so, cautiously. On the other side of the hallway, was the rest of the house. All decorated in the same monotonous colors of black brown, and gray. More abstract art was scattered along the walls, and in between every few splatters of pain on canvas, a sculpture rose from the ground. The pattern of weird art extended to the end of the hallway and around a corner, into a brightly lit area. A light clinking. More

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