This was no crank call. Otherwise why would she admit her own guilt?My internal temperature had already been stirred up. Now I began to stew. This was a small community we lived in. Before long, everyone would be knowing my business. Suddenly that rational Homo sapien started to lose his cool.Finally the dam just broke. It was eleven o'clock at night. I was talking to a friend on the phone. I saw my wife walk to the back door with a strange expression on her face. I put my hand over the phone."Where are you going?"She looked almost panicked. She said, "I've got to get out of here for awhile."I said, "At eleven o'clock at night?"But she was gone. I heard her car leaving the driveway. I had no idea where she was going or when she would be back. I finished my phone call, went to bed and attempted to sleep.I had a meeting with the executive vice-president of my company at 8:30 in the morning. Eight-thirty arrived and still no Helen. I called in sick. Someone had to take care of the. Aside from mouth-watering and playing her body with her hands, Jennifer was also groaning, a low rumble coming from the pit of her throat. Her hips were swaying as she kept ogling the powercock belonging to her own flesh and blood as her husband had silently settled himself into a chair, watching his wife, wondering what she would do first.Mark was still grinning as his mother seemed to be in a world of her own, playing with her body as she stared at his cock as if hypnotised. He then threw oil on the fire by grabbing his cock in a hand and squeezing it, making the purple head bulge and a stream of precum ooze from his piss-slit, coating the top of his index finger. Slowly he pumped up and down, making his balls jiggle and dance between his thighs, his foreskin playing peek-a-boo with the head of his cock. Jennifer's fingers were now noisily and sloppily digging in and out of her leaking snatch. The rubbing fingers making the pubic hairs that were still relatively dry rustle, but.
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