“What the fuck...” she said, staring at the four young men.The tallest one was first to speak. “What do you expect, Jan?” he said, smiling. �...You were making so much noise, acting like a total slut. Why should Dan have all the fun?”As he said this Jan noticed the hard-on in his pants. In fact, all four of them were hard.Jan thought for about one second, knew that the drink and alcohol were still affecting her judgement. She also knew she would regret things in the morning but made an instant. The physical signs were as bad as she had feared. Her blue eyes were glassy, the pupils widely dilated. In contrast to the porcelain whiteness of the rest of her body, her upper chest and throat glowed a delicate shade of pink, a sign of sexual stimulation in Caucasian women. Oversized, blood-engorged areolas and nipples poking through her white blouse, another brazen signifier of lust. No bra material was thick enough to conceal those nipples when she was turned on.Closing her eyes, Brandee. "You want to stop here and get dinner?" Henry asked, breaking the awful silence.Angela looked up from her cell phone (god, I hate that thing, Henry thought to himself) and shrugged. "Sure, whatever," she said. Then she seemed to pull herself back from somewhere and her hand crept across, almost shyly, to touch his leg. "Look, Jim, I'm sorry I've been such a bitch."Henry smiled. "It's OK, Angie. You're still my wife and I still love you." It wasn't a complete rapprochement, not even a partial. "Timmy, baby, please. I can't take anymore. I'll do anything you ask of me really I will, just make the pain go away. Timmy, I'm your mother. Don't do this to me."I was just in I my late teens and I was in the middle of a great dilemma. Mom's tears were running down her face and falling on those wonderful breasts. The fact that I was the source of those tears was a feeling of guilt and responsibility that I had pondered before. But then, I had never been the cause of such great agony until.
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