Mother and son together
Marge Sayre awakened to the feel of a fat dick sensually worming its way in between the sleep-warm cheeks of her voluptuous ass.
"Mmm," she sighed, smiling as she clenched her buttocks around the forefront of her lover's erection and snuggled back into his embrace. "And just what do you think you're up to this morning?"
"As if you didn't know," the big redhead chuckled. He'd worked her nightgown up around her trim waist; now he pulled the front of it higher, cupping her clefted mound with one hand, rubbing it with an up and down motion as he tweaked the sensitive brown cones of the forty-three-year-old woman's embarrassingly small tits. Marge was nearly flat-chested and never went anywhere without wearing falsies in her bra. "Come on, baby, relax the buns. Daddy wants to go up the old dirt road."
"Oh, honey, don't," she protested, and winced as she felt his hard glans wedging insistently into her tiny rectum. "Your cock's so big. It hurts me too much."
"Don't hand me that." He captured her tumid nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and began pinching down on them. "You like it when I hurt you. Am I hurting you now? Am I pinching those little-girl titties hard enough for you yet?"
"Ohhh! Stop it, Frank! Damn it, not so hard!"
"It's turning you on, isn't it?" he demanded.
She nodded. "You know it… oooh… is! I can't help it."
"Yeah," the six-foot-three redhead gloated. "And you can't help turning on to fanny-fucking either, once we get going good. Now roll over on your stomach and spread your cheeks for me like a nice little slut."
"Please don't force me, honey. Not this morning. You know you have to get me drunk and work me up good before I can relax enough to – ouch – enjoy that!"