“Oh, my,” she said huskily as she felt her pussy leak more juice into her already saturated panties. “We can't do that, Matt.” she said as her hand that rested on his thigh began to move up and down his leg. He readjusted his position so that he was facing her more directly, too. “I know. But maybe we could make out for a bit. Just until the heat dies down in here.” He reached out and touched her exposed leg, which caused her to take in a sharp short breath. The electricity of the moment was. Not her hymen… no that was long gone. The heat inside her had built to a crescent and now…. her eyes fluttered and she slipped into black and felt no more. Her fingers scraped against his palms. He felt her long finger nails digging against his skin as she clenched her hands inside his. This was it. He tensed up, feeling her do the same. In his delirium, he imagined the cracks on the ceiling wiggling free and swirling together in tartaric delight. He spurted. She clenched. And the room burst. I don't know why I had never considered the fact that she might masturbate. It had been several years since she and Dad split up, and Mom was still a fairly young, vital woman. I guess it was just the old taboo that stopped me from thinking of her in that way. Now I stood in the frame of the doorway leading from the hall to the living room, my tongue hanging out all the way to my knees as I watched Mom fuck herself slowly and steadily with a dildo at least two inches longer than my personal. The postie was then invited to enter the room so in theory you didn’t know who it was. The door would then be closed plunging the room into darkness again and the postie would sit on the person’s knee and give that person their Christmas gift. In return the person had to give the postie a kiss. Eventually I got my turn at being the recipient and when the postie said ‘close your eyes I have a parcel for you’ I recognised the voice as Jenny’s. She sat on my knee and handed me my gift and I.
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