‘Ooohhh’ I groaned as my mother’s cunt muscle gripped my cock like a vice. A vision of the Bollywood goddess Urmilla flooded into my mind. Yes, ... cried to myself,I was making love to Urmilla, for my mother was the ultimate incarnation of her – from her pretty face, her big round bosoms, her smooth hips and her fleshy buttock cheeks. An exact replica of my idol. The room immediately flooded with the scent of sordid sex. I thrust deeper and harder into the soil of motherly love. After 18 years. With another man, I would have made a joke, wiggled my backside, grinned over my shoulder at him. Another man would have laughed with me, maybe swatted me once, and the playful moment would be over. But with him, Don’t move meant just that, and this was why I was frozen to the spot and blushing, my heart beginning to race in anticipation. A full minute stretched out. Just as sweat began to prickle my skin, his voice: ?Good girl.? He hadn’t moved from the bed.He laughed again at whatever the. More

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