I could see the image in my mind, clear as if it had actually come to pass. “And then she does, Kristy. Your fuck-slut mother spreads your firm little butt cheeks. She pulls them wide apart. Her daughter’s tight, slick little asshole, puckered and waiting, longing for her kiss...” “Yes...” I sighed, my resistance faltering to the illusions Kara appeared to be weaving in my voyeur mind. “You yearn desperately for her oral caress. Your Mother’s lips on your asshole, her long wet tongue slipping into your tight little bunghole. Do you see it Kristy? Yes? Tell me, interracial do you try to resist? Do you tell her this is wrong?” “N... No...” indian I admit with a gasping sob. I could see myself, spread and eager, waiting for my Mother’s incestuous tongue, deep and wet in the depths of my clutching rectum. I might as well play historian. A interracial moment later they all ran out and jumped in almost landing on top of me. I spluttered my way to the surface and wiped the water from my face. I had to trust my muse. Is there a police investigations? I can’t let him show that video. My eldest was in her indian bedroom studying. Then her lips found mine again, hungry. Big ones. Huh. voyeur He could swear her tits had gotten bigger.