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She helps prostitute mom bang a father & son.

'Where are you? Are you at home? I'm coming over.'

It felt like time stopped when I read his reply. The 20 minutes it took for him to arrive were the longest of my life.

Then again, I always found ways to occupy myself when I was waiting for him to come over and this time was no different. I sometimes wondered if he had any idea of how I had been touching myself and moaning his name just minutes before he came in, or if he could smell what I had just done in the air.

After the longest while I heard a knock on the door. I rushed to open it, I knew how he hated to be kept waiting. I felt the cold air from outside rush to meet me, sobering my thoughts for a second. I let him in and suddenly I couldn't look him in the eye anymore. I was frozen to the spot, afraid to touch him. Just one word slipped through my lips, so quietly I could only hope he had heard it. "Please."

He understood. The very second the word had passed from my lips, the door slammed shut and I was being pushed against the wall, his hands holding my wrists above my head. Everything was spinning as he pressed against me and his freezing cold jacket burned my skin.

All the power I thought had this past few weeks left me. I could no longer fight this. I surrendered. His mouth was on mine, his tongue in my mouth, demanding, his lips swallowing my moans and my pleas. I kept repeating one word even if it was lost in the midst of everything else. "Please."

My knees started to weaken and if he hadn't been holding me, I wouldn't have been able to keep myself upright, not even with the wall at my back. His hot breath caressed my neck as he whispered, "I've been waiting for you to be ready."

He let go of my hands and they fell against my sides; I had nothing left in me to hold them up, no strength to do anything else but feel. His hands were strong, like they were made of steel, and all over my body, touching me everywhere. They were in my hair, pulling it to give him better access to my neck. His hands were on my breasts, squeezing and kneading them. They were grabbing my ass, touching my face, making my back arch under his touch.

His fingers zeroed in under my skirt. I had chosen it specifically for this. He had once commented on it being a bit too slutty to wear in public, but he had seemed to like it anyway.

"Are you wet, baby? Are you wet for me already?" he asked.

I could only moan in response. I felt his movements, his fingers creeping up my thighs, closer to the heat. I knew he would soon feel how wet I was for him. I know I should have been embarrassed, but I wanted him to feel what he did to me. I needed him to touch me, to touch my pussy.

I spread my legs a little wider to give him better access. His fingers stopped just over my panties and I was sure he could feel the heat I radiated. He didn't go any further than that and I wanted to cry. I was so frustrated. I needed him to take me right then and there. "Please," I begged.

Suddenly he lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom. He knew his way around my place, having been there so many times before. He kicked the door open and threw me roughly onto my bed.

"Stay still," he commanded. "Watch me."

He looked me straight in the eyes and started taking his clothes off. His leather jacket fell to the floor. Then he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and with every button that came undone, I could feel the same thing happening to me. I was getting wetter by the moment.

I felt my urgency for him in my fingers; I so wanted to touch him. I felt it in my mouth, the need to kiss him, to taste him, to shout his name, to beg him. I felt it in the pit of my stomach. Lastly, I felt my pussy starting to ache with a need I knew only he could satisfy.

His shirt was on the floor and he began unbuckling his belt. I wanted to feel that leather on my skin. I wanted him to tie me up with it someday. I wanted him so much; I needed him to own me.

The rest of his clothes soon followed and he was standing before me naked and hard.

"Do you like what you see, baby

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