While Brad was still bragging about loving and leaving them, his quieter brother had dipped his hand between Marsha's parted thighs and was finger-f*****g her bare p***y. While she pretended to listen to the exploits of the boorish Brad, she licked her lips from the digital action on which she was really concentrating.
I was beginning to see that s****l prowess is not necessarily a function of maturity. This smooth operator, Toby, couldn't have been more than eighteen. His amiably barbaric brother no more than eighteen.
Over on the floor, the face of the eighteen or eighteen-year-old daughter was between the backs of her mother's thighs. She was eating p***y.
Mrs. Stewart was hunched over blowing Frank, so her daughter's assault was a rear-entry job all the way. The position where the c
