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I moved closer to her and, putting my other hand in, began to massage the other breast too

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.
Slowly moving my dick between my buttocks, I gradually began to penetrate the gap and touch the anus.
Probably, mama did not want penetration from this side, and so she turned to face me.

Now I have the opportunity to kiss her in the hope that she will answer me and, in spite of the words she has just spoken, I will be able to experience the bliss of merging with my beloved woman again.
But alas.
She answered me quite restrainedly for a kiss, and then moved back and said in a quite ordinary voice: – Kolenka, please go to your room.
We did something wrong.
Please, go.
Come on.
In the morning, Mama was thoughtfully sad.
She was, as before, tender with me, but seemed to be somehow detached.
She allowed herself a hug, but at night the door to her bedroom was closed from the inside.
This went on for several days.
And then everything changed: one morning I went into the kitchen and saw that mamma was singing and smiling again.
I sat down at the table, gladly watching the cheerful fluttering of my beauty.
She herself came up to me and pressed my head to her wonderful chest.
– Kolya, I have good news – I did not get pregnant !.
The last few days I was afraid of the undesirable effects of our nightly incontinence.
You know, what we did that night is not good.
This is not just a sin, it is unacceptable adultery.
it is worse than homosexuality.
No one should ever know that this happened to you and me.
Let’s forget about it, as if nothing had happened.
Did not have.
Did not have.
Did not have.
And never will.
Okay? ,
I hugged Mama, leaned against her and asked with fear: – How?
Never at all ?.
– Yes! Sitting on a chair, I hugged Mama around the waist with one hand, and ran my other hand under my skirt and slid my hand over the teasing smoothness of nylon.

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Mama turned around and sat on my lap.
I pressed my lips to her neck and, kissing, began to descend lower – into the depth of the opened blouse collar.
For a while she let me kiss the tender flesh of her breasts, and then she got up, patted my hair and said emphatically: – That’s it.
Enough for now.
Go wash and cool down.
In five minutes we will have breakfast.
In the evening, mamma, half lying on the couch and turned on the TV.
Beautiful legs in a translucent smoky nylon magnetically attracted my eyes and thoughts.
I sat down next to the graceful feet and gently stroked the delicate part of the foot under the bend.
Mama little jerk leg and smiled: – Ticklish.
I grabbed the legs under my heels, lifted and began to kiss pretty feet.
Mama little laughed and started kicking mischievously.
The skirt slipped and through the thin nylon there were kinds of pink panties.
I skipped the legs over the shoulders and, following the skirt, slid to the crotch, pressed my mouth and exhaled the hot air to where the secret lips were hidden under the nylon and pink silk.
Mommy stopped, and I felt the exciting smell of women, from which my head became dim and I put my hands under the pelvis, tried to pull off my panties and tights.
But then mama moved her hips, squeezing my neck, and covered my head with a skirt, tightly pressing my head to my pubic hair.
For some time we froze, then mamma slapped me with the palm of the hand on the back of the head: – Kohlka !! Do not climb there.
Do not.
Then mama pushed me out from under the skirt, tucked her legs and covered them with a skirt.
The following days were rather strange: mamma was still tender with me and allowed herself to hug, but you could only kiss her neck.
I once read an aphorism: “having tasted honey will not begin to chew empty wax.”
After that night, when mama gave me a taste of the highest pleasure, all the time I wanted to experience again the happiness of intercourse with my beloved woman.
The desire grew and burned, hormones crushed and demanded a way out.
Masturbation partially relieved physiological stress, but not for long.
And, besides, in the emotional-mental plane, masturbation now began to seem so bestial and vile that I resorted to her only if I could not sleep for a very long time.
Our writer felt sorry for her: “Look, a soulless doll, but she is afraid of being unloved and unnecessary.
It is afraid that it will be returned for recycling.
No, I will return, for it no money is paid. ”
To reassure this Dolly, he called her closer, stroked the black tuft of a mohnatka, played with a fold, that he was running down between the thighs.
– Tomorrow I’ll get you, print and your pussy and ass.
Now go clean up the kitchen. Woweva bongacams.

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