Ride my big cock like a good slut,” he encouraged as he grabbed my hips.“It’s so good, baby,” I cooed, trying to catch my breath, “your cock...��s so good.”It didn’t dawn on me that my son called me a slut and I couldn’t recall a time when another guy had called me that. I didn’t care though. I was a slut. I was his slut. And I wanted to be his slut.I bounced on him harder and faster, thrusting my hips forwards and backward and around in circles over him. The squishy sound of his cock repeatedly. I wondered what our encounter would be like, would we have lunch? Should I kiss her hello? What were going to be the guidelines? Our last encounter had ended with so much heated lovemaking that I could not imagine seeing her without some of the heat remaining. Little did I know how much I had underestimated this woman.After checking in, I called her to tell her where I was, and she said that she was just a couple blocks from there and would bring coffee and be right over. I gave her the room. More

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