It drove him over the edge.Jason thought about her riding him on the grass beside the family pool, his pulsating penis slamming into her wet, hot cunt...in an incessant rythm of flesh and saliva. His mother, seated upon his manhood, moaning and screaming, riding her son like the bad mad whore-of-a-mother she always had been deep inside, throwing herself on his chiseled sixpack, forward and back, her leather necklace dangling down in front of her breasts, making her son tremble under her lustful. I shivered, the car slowing, turning left this time. Left, left, right, then... No, intersection then right, then left again.The car drove, stopping at lights, making turns, moving farther and farther away from the Smithsonian. And with every turn, I had harder and harder time remembering the orders. Was it two left turns then right? And where was the pothole? And how would this even help anyways? It was so pointless trying to keep track.So frustrating.I wished right then that my intelligence. More

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