The important part of the tale to this point was that it didn’t sound like Mom was giving me shit. There was no anger in her voice. Just wistfulness... Maybe depression as well.Mom continued her story. “My parents were both alcoholics as you know. Due to that I don’t drink much now and don’t really enjoy being around drinkers. Your father found he needed to socialize, and drink, more and more. This drove a wedge between us.”The story was getting interesting. I tried to hold my leg down.“As you. She moaned, urging me on with her pleasure. Her hips rocked, pulling me deeper. “You feel so good,” she said as my cock touched bottom. I began thrusting longer and harder, pulling all the way back and slamming it in. Her tits bounced and she moaned with every thrust. I began to fuck her faster and harder as my mind repeated “I'm fucking my sister” over and over. “Fuck yes Jackson, fuck me,” she cried softly. “Do you like fucking your sister,” she asked, echoing my thoughts. . More

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