Chapter 19

Another letter from Marilyn.

Having read many of the letters from your group, I fully expected that I would try to avoid my son in an effort to return to our normal relationship and refrain from further shameless behavior. And indeed, that is exactly what happened.

My son tried to entice me into joining him for more movie nights. As soon as Mark left the house, Nathan would make popcorn and dim the lights in the living room. If he hadn’t already been to the video store, he would make a point of asking me if there was anything I wanted to see. But I was aloof.

After several weeks, Nathan stopped trying. Of course, I then began to worry that I would lose him, that he would leave as soon as school was over in just a few weeks. Had I made a big mistake by pushing him away?

I worried frantically for almost a week and tried to engage Nathan without success. Then, on a Thursday, I tried to bring up Nathan’s future plans while we had dinner with just the two of us because Mark had called earlier to say he’d be late. Nathan was evasive and left the kitchen as soon as he finished eating, saying he was going to meet his friends to hang out.

To relax, I had a long hot shower and changed into a robe, the same blue one I’d worn that fateful night weeks ago. I made some popcorn and set a bottle of wine on the table beside the couch, then settled in to watch a movie. I was surprised to hear Nathan come downstairs only minutes later. I had thought he’d already gone.

“Have fun,” I waved but didn’t turn to look as he passed behind me to get his coat out of the entranceway closet.

“You’re watching a movie?” he asked, pulling his coat off a hanger and putting it on.

“Yeah,” I replied, not looking.

“What are you watching?” he asked, walking up to stand behind me but looking down at me rather than the movie.

“A chick flick.”

“Which one?”

“That one where Meg Ryan loses her good girl image.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, obvious interest in his voice.

He watched in silence for a minute.

“I thought you were going out,” I said.

“I still have a few minutes,” he replied, not moving.

I filled my wine glass, deciding not to say anything else.

“She’s hot,” Nathan said. “Do you mind if I watch for awhile?”

“Suit yourself, but don’t stand behind me.”

Nathan removed his coat and shoes, then climbed over the back of the couch and plopped down beside me, almost spilling my wine as he bounced down hard.

“Nathan, how many times have I told you...”

“Sorry Mom.”

Meg was just starting to display her hot little body.

“She looks like you, Mom, except smaller upstairs.”

“Yeah, right,” I bantered back, sipping my wine.

Nathan watched Meg with keen interest, then turned to look at me. I ignored him and continued watching the movie. Rather than trying to sneak a peek like before, he candidly surveyed my chest before turning back to the movie, ostensibly comparing me to Meg. I should have said something, but I didn’t. I should have been angry, but I wasn’t. I simply felt relieved that he wasn’t blocking me out, and that I may be able to find out what he was planning to do when school was over.

When the commercials started, Nathan asked if he could have some wine.

“Sure. Get yourself a glass.”

“Can’t we share?”

“Don’t be so lazy.” I elbowed him playfully.

“Mom,” he protested, squirming away from me, then reaching for my glass. “It’s cooler to share,” he said, taking a long sip.

I pulled my feet up and tucked them under myself to sit cross legged on the couch. As Nathan finished his drink, I took the bowl of popcorn from the table, placed it in my lap and began feeding kernels of popcorn into my mouth with exaggerated slowness like I had that night so long ago. The way he watched and the act itself sent an illicit thrill through my body. Stop it, I admonished myself. Keep focused. You just want him to work things out with his Dad so he can stay home.

Nathan handed the glass back to me but I shook my head, guesturing with my hands full of popcorn. “My fingers are all buttery,” I explained further. “I used too much.”

Interpreting that as a request for a sip, Nathan held the glass to my lips, tipping it up until a trickle of wine dribbled into my mouth. A little spilled on my lips. Nathan reached across to set the glass on the table and then brushed the extra wine away with his fingertip, spreading it back and forth across my lips. Perhaps accidentally, he exerted sufficient pressure to depress my lips, making his touch more of a rub than a brush.

“You should wear lipstick more often,” he said. “It makes your mouth look more inviting.”

I just nodded as if it was normal for my son to make such inappropriate comments about my appearance. Nathan dipped his hand into the bowl to retrieve some popcorn, moving it about in my lap much like I had done to him. He ate it slowly, mimicking my own seductive consumption. I couldn’t help grinning inside at his cockiness though I allowed only the faintest smile to bend my lips. When I lowered my hand to scoop some more popcorn for myself, Nathan quickly moved his fingers to rest a kernel between my lips, pausing for a second before pushing it in.

Though conducted in a playful manner, it was still a poignant, erotic moment. He leaned across me to reach for the wine, pressing closer than necessary, his chest brushing across mine. He scraped so closely across me on the way back that I suspected he was trying to loosen my robe as much as feel my chest.

“Nathan,” I complained.

“Sorry Mom. It was a hard reach,” was his flimsy excuse. I didn’t challenge it.

He took a drink, looking down at my robe. I couldn’t help glancing down too and noticed that he had indeed ruffled my robe sufficiently to see that I wasn’t wearing anything else to cover my breasts. From his vantage point, he could see deep between the inside swells of my breasts.

“Here Mom,” he offered the wine to me again, perhaps to distract my attention from his line of sight. This time he spilled more into my mouth, paused for me to swallow, then tipped the glass again. Savoring the taste, I asked him if he was trying to soften me up.

“For what?” he asked. I didn’t answer that and he didn’t pursue it.

Placing the glass back on the table, he dipped his finger into the nearly empty glass and rubbed it on my lips again. I knew I shouldn’t be letting my son touch me in such a provocative manner and suddenly felt awkward. I tried to push his hand aside to put my own popcorn in my mouth, but he pushed my hand back down into the bowl.

“Let me do that for you while you watch the movie, Mom.”

Nathan opened my hand, spilling its popcorn into the bowl. Filling his own hand, he returned to my mouth, pushing a single kernel against my pursed lips. After a brief resistance, I let my lips part so he could push it into my mouth. On the third piece, Nathan’s fingers followed past my lips and briefly touched the tip of my tongue. Though a jolt speared straight down my spine to my pelvis, I didn’t visibly react.

As he fed me the rest of the popcorn, I sat placidly watching Meg present her erotic side but Nathan never looked at the movie, even to see Meg’s sexy body. When the popcorn was done, he picked up the bowl and set it on the side table, dipped his finger into the wine and again spread it over my lips, this time pushing his finger slightly inside my mouth.

“Nathan,” I whispered, for no apparent reason since we were alone in the house. “Be good.”

“You don’t bite, do you?” he responded.

“You know what I mean,” I laughed. “Behave yourself.”

“You look so pretty when you pout with such ruby red lips,” he bantered back. My answering laugh must have encouraged him because he suddenly dipped his hand down into my cleavage, fingers held tightly in a vertical line, and swung his hand towards himself and then away, pushing the lapels of my robe apart, significantly widening the gap between them and expanding his view of my breasts.

“Nathan!”

“What?” he cried, resting his fingers on the top of my left breast, just above my nipple.

“You know what. I’m your mother!”

“I know that,” his hand brushed side to side, the tips of his fingertips teasing my breast.

“Your hand is inside my robe.”

“I know,” he made light of my complaint. “I didn’t want to get butter on it.”

“That’s not the point,” my voice rose.

At that moment, Nathan’s hand suddenly twisted around, his buttery fingers sliding underneath to cup my full breast while his thumb pressed down on my stiffening nipple. His move shocked me so much I couldn’t speak. My mouth was dry and words failed to frame within my brain though my mind was certainly not quiet. His thumb rubbed over and back across my hardening nipple as his fingers gently squeezed my tit below, and still I couldn’t speak. Just as I was about to push him away, his voice shocked me again.

“I spoke to Dad.”

Those four words froze me like a statue. His hand continued to fondle my breast, his fingers sliding up to join his thumb, pinching my distended nipple and rolling it in their buttery grip. I finally managed a single word just as he stretched my tit up by tugging on my nipple.

“What?” I cried.

Nathan pushed my tit down, mashing and rolling it against my chest, before squeezing my nipple and tugging it up again. Even through my shock, my brain registered how good that felt.

“We talked,” he said. “About the summer.”

His lips covered mine in an impromtu kiss. Within seconds, I parted my lips to accept his tongue. The kiss was insistent, demanding, unlike the slow exploration I had so enjoyed weeks before. But somehow, it was just as exciting. He was different somehow, exhibiting a confidence he hadn’t shown before. His hand slid off my breast and tried to push down to my panties but was blocked by the belt of my robe, still cinched tight around my waist.

I was gasping when the kiss ended.

“What happened?” I rasped, forgetting that he had just mauled my tit and pushed his tongue inside my mouth, my mind focused on the conversation that could govern my son’s future.

His hand returned to manipulate my breast.

“I told him I did want to learn the business, but in my own way, that I couldn’t become him.”

“What did he say to that?” I asked, eagerly awaiting his response, consciously oblivious of his fondling or, the be more truthful, tolerating it and not finding it hard to do so.

Nathan looked down. “Undo your belt and I’ll tell you.”

“Nathan!” I looked suitably shocked.

Nathan shrugged.

“Tell me what your father said,” I demanded.

He held my eyes, steadily. “Undo your belt first,” he repeated.

Clamping my lips together in a show of repressed anger, I nevertheless loosened the belt. Nathan stared into my eyes, not once glancing away, but as soon as the belt was undone, he let go of my breast and pushed the robe apart, clearing it off both legs. Only then did he look down at the pair of black lace panties, the only thing I wore under the robe, the sheer material and my wide open thighs leaving little to the imagination. Why had I sat cross legged?

“Tell me what your father said,” I repeated, my voice demanding.

Looking up, Nathan said, “You have beautiful hair, Mom.” He brushed my hair back from my face, letting it slip through his fingers.

Disconcerted but refusing to be sidetracked, I said again, “What did he say?” my voice very firm.

“He seemed very pleased. He said I should do things my own way. A man has to, to get what he wants in life.”

Nathan stared intently into my eyes as he repeated his father’s words, moving his hand onto my tummy and sliding it slowly down, over my panties and between my legs. There, he curled his fingers and cupped his hand against my pussy. Try as I might, I couldn’t close my legs. I’m not sure I wanted to. His newfound confidence was overpowering, intoxicating.

“Nathan,” I gasped, my hand clutching his forearm.

“He’s not interested in home,” Nathan whispered, “but I am.”

His fingers cupped me tighter, released, and squeezed again.

“Nathan ... the other night ... we can’t.”

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked, the implication of a negative answer hanging ominously in the air.

I didn’t answer. His fingers began rubbing me. His lips choked off my protest and his hand bunched my soft red hair to hold my head still while he worked my mouth. When I opened my eyes, I became aware that my hips were moving, pushing my panties against his rubbing hand. How could I expect to stop him when I responded so easily, so desperately?

“Do you want me to stay?” he repeated. His fingers kept rubbing.

Reluctantly, I nodded. His hand paused to allow his thumb to hook over the top of my panties, sliding down on the inside, slipping between my damp, lightly haired furrow.

“Then, take off your panties,” he whispered.

“What?” I said aloud, my surprise evident.

“Take off your panties,” he reiterated, calmly, in the same firm voice.

I held firm, not moving.

“I know what he’s done, what he’s still doing. I want to be able to sit here in this room, while he’s in it, knowing that his wife played the same game on him and took off her panties for another man, right here. For me.”

I stared in shock. He and his father had already started their implicit competition but poor Mark had no idea how big the playing field really was, and just how much he stood to lose. Silently, I hooked my thumbs in the panties and slid them over my hips, lifting my ass to help, untucking my legs and raising my knees so I could snap the panties up my thighs and down my calves, held prettily together now, and off. Setting my feet on the floor, I dropped the panties in Nathan’s lap.

Nathan looked down at the panties, then slid his hand between my closed knees and pulled them apart. He slid his hand up the length of my right thigh, along the inside, until his hand was poised in front of my pussy. He looked up into my eyes.

“Is that what you want?” I whispered.

“Yes.” His voice was hoarse.

He pushed his fingers between my lips, brushing them up and down, soaking them before pushing inside. I opened my arms and welcomed his lips on mine again. I was so wet, I could hear his fingers sloshing lewdly inside me as we kissed. I didn’t care. I loved the feel of him there. When the kiss ended, Nathan tried to pull me sideways down onto the couch.

“No, we should go upstairs,” I whispered.

“We won’t be able to hear his car if he comes home,” Nathan answered.

He stood and dropped his pants, and then his boxers, letting his impressive, strong, young cock spring free to dangle before me. Even thought I had felt it pressing hard between my shoulder blades its size still surprised me. Poor Mark. Nathan smiled when he saw the expression on my face. He took my right hand and pulled, twisting me onto my back on the couch. Kneeling, he grasped my legs under my knees and pulled me toward him, holding my legs open and pushing my thighs back onto my breasts.

“Nathan, maybe we should...”

He moved quickly forward, pushed his pole down to meet my hole, and shoved.

“Unnnngghhhhhh.” He was inside me.

“Ohhhhhhh,” I groaned as my son pushed his full length inside me, slowly, allowing my seldom used tunnel to expand as its walls retreated from this imposing invader. He stopped when he bottomed out, but only for a few seconds. Placing his hands over my tits and squeezing my nipples in the circle of his firm grip, he started fucking me, slowly at first, but ever increasing his pace and the strength of his thrusts.

There was a lot of pent up energy inside us both that needed to be released, and he was trying hard to break the shell that held it inside of me. I moaned and groaned shamelessly as Nathan slammed into me, bending me almost double as he stretched up on his haunches to really dig in. Our thighs slapped loudly and wetly together. There was no way we could have heard Mark’s car drive up and I wondered afterward if passersby could hear us rutting inside.

He ended suddenly with a loud grunting groan, his seed gushing forth, filling me and triggering my own orgasm. We lay gasping for breath for a couple of minutes before Nathan pulled back, grasping my hands and pulling me with him. I thought he was helping me up but he tried to twist me around. God. He wanted to turn me over, to fuck me from behind right away.

My tame sex life with Mark hadn’t prepared me for crouching on all fours in my own living room. I resisted. Failing to turn me over, Nathan pushed my tummy against the back of the couch, pressed my knees apart and slid his cock into me. God. I gasped loudly with the fullness of him. As he banged into me my head rocked forward over the back of the couch, a motion exacerbated when Nathan gripped the back of the couch on either side of me for leverage and began thrusting harder. He was shoving up so hard that my tummy was lifted to the top of the couch and I ended up draped over the back with Nathan half standing, wildly shagging the shit out of me.

I had never been fucked like this. Is this what Mark had wanted? A woman to wantonly let him have his way with her, any way he wanted, wherever he wanted? Why hadn’t he asked? No. Why hadn’t he taken me like this? There was no need to go astray. I liked it, and his son was proving that right now. Go ahead, I screamed in my mind. Bang me. Fuck me hard. Slam your cock in me. I don’t care. Yeah, oh yeah. Fuck me hard. Come on, give it to me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Oh, yeah. It’s coming, it’s coming.

“Yeaaaahhhhhhh!” I wailed, just as Nathan’s second gush burst inside me.

He pulled out a minute later, gathered his clothes and walked past me without saying a word. I was still laying over the back of the couch when I heard his bedroom door close. Minutes later I pulled myself together, put my robe on, and took the wine glass and popcorn bowl into the kitchen. Still the mother, I noticed that some of Nathan’s seed had spilled out of me onto the back of the couch. I was still cleaning it up when Mark came home.

“Spill something?” he asked as he took his coat and shoes off, walking over to give me a peck on the cheek, probably not realizing he carried a faint smell of perfume.

“A little wine,” I said.

“Oh, oh,” he said, stooping to take a close look. “Will it come out?”, he asked. “We just bought that couch.”

Yeah, six years ago, I thought. It wasn’t worth mentioning.

“Where’s Nathan?”

“He went to bed. He seemed tuckered out.” I smiled at my hypocrisy.

“Oh? Did he tell you he’s going work for me, learn the ropes?”

“Yes,” I replied. “He asked for my support.”

“Oh yeah,” Mark laughed. “Well you better help him all you can. He’s going to need it. He has to man up now.” Mark turned to go up the stairs.

“Don’t worry,” I said to my husband’s retreating back, “I’ll give him everything he needs.”

The next day I was wearing the blue robe again waiting for Nathan to come home from school. I was sitting in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee when he and his friend Ken came in. Nathan took one look at me and told Ken he’d forgotten that he had to do some chores he promised me so he couldn’t hang out. Ken left after a few minutes. I followed the boys out of the kitchen as Nathan accompanied Ken to the front door. When the door closed, Nathan turned to find me bending over the back of the couch, digging my hands behind the cushions.

“I lost something here last night,” I said. “Can you help me find it before your Dad comes home?”

“Sure Mom,” he answered.

I heard him step up behind me but then he was quiet. I continued rummaging around behind the cushions, letting my bottom shake more than necessary. I wasn’t surprised when Nathan’s hands lightly gripped my hips, holding me gently but firmly.

“I meant help me look, not hold me still,” I said, my hips still managing to sway in his hands.

My robe bunched at the side of my legs as Nathan gathered it up in his fingers. When his hands were full, he slid them over my hips, pulling the robe up and piling it on my back.

“Nathan, stop it,” I complained.

Ignoring me, Nathan said, “Mom. That’s so bad. You’re not wearing panties.”

“That’s what I’m looking for,” I said, acting again like there wasn’t anything wrong with him baring my bottom. Talk about being obvious.

He didn’t answer but I heard his belt being undone, and then his zipper.

“I guess I’m a bad girl,” I said, wiggling my bottom.

“Yes,” he said. “You’re a very naughty woman.”

I made a mental note to discard the little girl act. That was probably something Mark would like but clearly my son wanted to deal with a woman. I widened my stance a few inches and rose up on my tippy toes, tensing my leg muscles prettily. I may have put a few extra pounds on my bottom but I had nice legs. I knew that.

“God, Mom,” Nathan gasped.

He was already breathing hard and he wasn’t even inside me yet. I was pleased.

“Do you like that?” I asked.

“Oh yeah,” he answered.

“Then don’t bring your friends home with you if you want me to greet you properly,” I repremanded him.

In answer, the head of his cock probed between my legs. Nudge, nudge. I offered little resistance, having waited all afternoon for my son to come home. As soon as his manhood popped inside it slid easily up through my slippery channel until it was more than halfway in. Nathan gasped in surprise, then pulled back and paused before starting his next thrust.

“That is, unless there’s something else you’d rather do,” I said, wiggling my bottom again.

“No,” he gasped, pushing in, slowly, back to halfway and beyond, two thirds, three quarters, as deep then as his father had ever reached.

Again he pulled back, almost all the way out. I adjusted my feet, stepping on top of his like I’d done with my Dad as a little girl, giggling as he walked me around. Mark had never done that with Nathan.

In he plunged, his thighs tensing with effort as he thrust higher just to reach the same point now that I was standing on him, attaining his previous depth and pushing beyond, holding there, filling me with his gorgeous young cock. It was so thick and long, and it seemed to shimmy, transferring the strain from his quivering thigh muscles deep inside me. Five, ten, fifteen seconds. Only then did he withdraw, tantalizingly slow.

I was surprised when he pulled right out, filling the air with a sucking sound in concert with my disappointed groan. But he immediately pushed back in, and my elated moan lasted the entire traverse as his meat passed through me once more, meeting and exceeding its former goal yet again. I was pushed up onto my tippy toes, even standing on his feet. I could feel myself drooling on him on his cock. Only three thrusts and I was creaming all over his manliness. A final push and I was lifted completely off my toes, dangling on him, impaled. I think I whimpered.

“I love it. Do you Mom?”

“Yesssssss,” I hissed. “Yessssss.”

“I’ll try to make you love it more every day,” he whispered, starting his long slide out.

He stopped talking then, and I was grateful. I need him to just fuck me, and he did. Slowly, intensely. Never faster, just those long slow, penetrating thrusts, each time holding me up quivering on his love pole. I came after just a few more thrusts but he kept coming, relentlessly, until that overwhelming feeling began to spread through me again, and then again. Four times I came, and on the last one his cream gushed into my cunt, filling me, as his hands squeezed my tits hard, not on purpose, just reacting. Only then, in the final throes of his own orgasm, did his pace change and he jackhammered me with a series of frantic minithrusts.

Seconds later, he pulled out, just as Mark’s car crunched into the driveway. Nathan stumbled up the stairs, trying to run but finding it hard to make his legs work. I was cleaning the couch, apparently, when Mark came through the door.

“Still at that?” he asked. “Didn’t the stain come out?”

He tossed his coat over the back of the couch, leaving it for me to put away. He didn’t give me a kiss or a hug.

“Is dinner ready?” he asked, walking quickly into the kitchen. “I’m starved.”

“Just about,” I called, following my husband into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. He was sitting at the table and as I set out the dishes and food, I could feel my son’s spunk trickling down the inside of my thighs.

“Can you call Nathan?” I asked. Mark was looking at his blackberry.

“Can you do that, babe?” It was a statement, though is sounded like a question. “I’ve got a few messages that I have to answer right away.”

As I neared his bedroom door, Nathan came out wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants.

“Dinner’s ready.” I said quietly.

“Thank’s Mom. Sorry I wasn’t down sooner. I had to, you know, subside.” He smiled sheepishly.

“Oh?” I smirked.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Tell your Dad I’m having a quick shower.” I looked down as the lump in his sweats. “Maybe you should put on a pair of jeans.” Laughing as I walked away, I added, “And don’t be late tomorrow.”

Nathan wasn’t late. He was early. As I listened to him rushing around downstairs, calling my name, I smiled at the thought of this eagerness, picturing him roaring out of school as fast as his legs could carry him, arriving breathless at home. No wonder he sounded increasingly frantic when his calls went unanswered. Had he rushed home for nothing, bruising his favorite body part as he ran, chafing it against the inside of his jeans, thrusting harder against the rough denim with each burning thought of what awaited him at the end of his mad dash home.

“MOM,” he called, his feet stamping up the stairs.

Mom,” he yelled, stomping down the hallway and into my room.

Mom?” his voice drifted was more distant as he looked into my bathroom.

“Shit!” he swore, his voice closer now, in the hallway again, probably by the open bathroom door. “Shit,” his frustration vented again, his steps coming closer, towards his room, to me.

The door burst open.

“Holy shit,” he said but in a completely different tone.

I smiled, though Nathan couldn’t see it because my face was buried in his mattress. I did, however, lift my pelvis from the bed, just slightly, so he could better see my naked ass and the strip of bare, glistening pussy through my parted legs. Lowering myself, I spread my legs wider.

The sounds of frantic undressing and tossed shoes and clothes followed immediately.

“Hurry,” I said, not for myself though I had been laying there patiently for half an hour. I just wanted to step the intensity of the situation up as high as I could.

“Hurry,” I groaned, reaching under myself with both hands to pry my thighs apart even as I lifted and waved my ass from side to side.

“Hurry,” I begged as his weight depressed the mattress.

“Hurry,” I cried joyously as his hands curled around my legs at the juncture with my hips, lifting me, readying me for his attack.

“God,” I groaned as he impaled me with his weapon. I laughed in joy with the slap of each frantic thrust, at the sound of his raspy breath gasping his need with each shove, thrilled to the bulge of his meaty mass inside me. My whole body rocked into the mattress. How can anybody fuck so fast? He was like a desperate prisoner returning to his cell to find his dream girl tied to his bunk. How long would she be there before they took her away?

Just as I wondered how long I could take such a shagging, he yelled out and his copious spend burst inside me. He collapsed on my back, panting hard. I allowed him only a minute.

“Did you like that?”

“God, Mom,” he gasped. “That was incredible. I’ll never forget it.”

He still hadn’t recovered his breath.

“Who said you could stop?”

“What?”

I wiggled my bum and squeezed my pussy. He was still inside me.

“Keep going,” I commanded.

He was only eighteen. I knew he could rise to the challenge, but could where was getting the energy, the need? Years of what I suddenly realized was boring sex? I don’t know for sure. All I knew was I wanted him ... now. I pushed my ass up, bumping against him, urging him on.

“Come on,” I insisted, closing my legs to increase the pressure on his cock which I could already feel stiffening to the task.

He pulled back but not all the way out and as I closed my legs tight together, he pushed, shoving al the way into me.

“That’s it,” I cried. “Fuck me.”

He did, in long slow thrusts like he had against the back of the couch yesterday. But this time, he slowly increased his pace. Soon he lifted himself to straddle his knees on either side of me, almost sitting on me as he thrust harder and faster. Eventually, he reached forward to cup his hands over my shoulders so he could pull himself into me even harder, hips pistoning as he dug into me from behind.

He grunted with the effort. As he lifted his weight to reposition himself, I thrust my ass back into him, catching him by surprise. He seemed to like that and held himself up, moaning each time I thrust my ass back at him, impaling myself on his root, matching his moans with my own sexy womanly sounds. He shifted higher, squatting on his feet and I followed him, lifting myself to my knees, thrusting my ass up wantonly, my head still firmly buried in the bed.