The darn thing was made of real, honest to goodness rubber; a heady, pungent odor that took me back through the years. There I stood once again before...my mother's middle dresser drawer, happily extracting one of her bras to take away for my own use while the family was away for the day. It was a heavy duty, industrial strength garment, providing the kind of the support needed by Carrie Nation as she wielded her massive ax against a solid mahogany bar in a den of iniquity. Were it to be made of. The great advantage to this was that I got to experience the full range of her talents. She twisted her hand as she bobbed her mouth onto me. She cupped my balls, massaging the cum out of them as she flicked her tongue against my cockhead. She moaned with the head of my cock in her throat, her beautiful watery eyes locked on mine. It was as if she were tuning me, tuning my cock like an instrument, bringing it into harmony with her mouth until every millimeter of it hummed for her, swelled and. More

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