The eyes of my mother. Milf porn And I didn’t remember a thing. I wasn’t prepared for this. I didn’t even know who this woman was. My discarded left shoe. We will fuck, Justin. “Oh, baby, I thought you’d never ask.”
I gestured with my chin. I was going to lose my girlfriend for this! You want to do it like this, off the edge of the bed? Told me you thought I was pretty, that I was a good-looking woman, that any man would be lucky to have me and that your father was an idiot for leaving.”
Man, I didn’t remember this at all. Wine. She was my mother. “You think so?”
She ignored it. “It was good for me too, baby,” she whispered. God help me, I’d fucking loved it. What had I gotten myself into? Just as I knew this bedspread, that dresser, and those pictures on the wall.
