But she tugged him insistently and up the long walk before their childhood home they went. ‘Shhh,’ she giggled, opening the door, ‘You know Mam...’s in the bottom of the bottle again.’ Sure enough, as his eyes adjusted to the interior of the house, he saw his mother passed out on the couch with a bottle of brandy wedged between her legs. She’d dropped a cigarette on to the stained rug and it had burned itself a snug little gray trench to call home. A cloistering deja vu settled in the back of. The whole thing, from the tip to the area all around the base, was a bit of a mess, which she laughs about, making coy eye contact as her hand stroking up and down Bruce’s big cock. Still, she took her time, enjoying it as much as she could, her left hand stroking Bruce while her right stroking against his thigh, and her lips held tightly around his dick. She bobbed with her eyes close for a moment, feeling Bruce’s hand come down and hold her hair back, keeping it as neat as possible, or at. More

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