Your erotic stories

Mrs. Lachlan. Jimmy’s mother. And our neighbourhood’s MILF. You could hear the gasps emerging from every teenage boy (and some grown men) when she glided past. She had the kind of melons you felt like you could wedge yourself between and survive for days in the middle of the ocean. And the kind of mouth you thought could swallow an apple whole, or, alternatively, the kind of mouth you thought you could unload into until you were dizzy and nauseous. She was a real piece of meat. Prime rib.

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