Assuming this was our floor I started pushing my way through the crowd only to hear my wife call me back. Ooops. I really was wobbly. But when I turne... around I still managed to notice that the driver was leaning against the wall and my wife was leaning her ass into his crotch. I also noticed his hands on her hips and somehow registered the fact that he did not remove them in response to my noticing. Both of them wore amused expressions. I think my wife even smiled. I've never been able to hold. But Dexter is here. Mom’s latest boyfriend, the one who “helps” us. Translation is that he gives Mom gifts.I go into the family room and they are there on the sofa sitting close. Dexter’s hand is on Mom’s thigh-high up and they both are smiling. I’m in my school uniform, plaid skirt falling nearly to the knee and white blouse with sweat and food stains on it. It hides the real me. Narrow ass. Full breasts. Skinny legs. I’m on my way to D cups but my mother wants more. She even asked. Her bow dances across the cello strings and we begin trading jazz improvisations back and forth across the courtyard. Her tone is by turns confident, defiant and toward the end suffused with melancholy. As the first rays of dawn pierce the inky black sky above us, we fall silent.Setting the cello aside, she turns to face me. Her breasts and taut pink nipples glow in the diffuse morning light. In the gap between her legs, the narrow V of a white cotton thong is clearly visible.Her face is nordic. Our hands moved to the music...touching, caressing each other, workingtheir way slowly across warm, soft skin.His hand reached my groin first. I gasped quietly when he first touchedme...his hand sending a shiver -- an electric current -- through my wholespine. I kissed him harder, wanting more.We fumbled with our pants, urgent, helping each other undress. And thenwe lay there, naked from the waist down, kissing, touching...rubbing eachother and moaning softly.He stroked my dick and I stroked.
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