Her hips were narrow, made for fucking, not childbearing. She had a lovely face with high cheekbones and a cute little mouth. He imagined her kneeling in front of him with her lips wrapped around his cock. There was Marsha, a short brown-skinned girl, probably Hispanic or Middle Eastern; it was hard to tell. She was a voluptuous girl, all hips and breasts and curves. Her face was round like the rest of her body, round cheeks, round eyes and full lips. She had long dark brown hair flowing loosely around her shoulders. Marsha was wearing a red scoop-necked shirt that was stretched by her large boobs; he couldn't tell if she wore a bra on those tits. Her black skirt came halfway down her dark thighs, holding tight to her big beautiful ass. Her shirt stopped just short of the skirt, revealing a strip of rounded brown belly. He imagined her on all fours with her skirt flipped up and his stiff cock thrusting in and out of her dark snatch between her deliciously brown ass cheeks.Then there. When I got back I started supper and we talked a little bit about how our days were, and we watched a little TV, then I went to bed. Pretty much just like any other day. I’ve lived with my mom ever since she had her accident ten years ago. I was in college at the time when I got word her and my dad had gotten hit on the freeway by a drunk driver. My dad died on the scene, and my mom was left a paraplegic. I’ve taken care of her ever since. I never did marry, and despite the odd relationship, there’s never been anyone serious in my life. I won’t lie – there was a time when I did resent the effect being her caretaker had on me, but my mom was the kindest, sweetest person I’ve ever known when I was a kid. There was nothing she wouldn’t have done for me. I guess that sort of just made it natural that I’d get used to taking care of her when she needed it most. I feel proud that I am the one who’s there for her, and not some anonymous rest home staffer. She’s always told me to go out and.
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