I reached up and started rubbing her firm breasts. Pinching her nipples. Rubbing them. I sat up and started sucking on them as she worked on getting o...f on me. She stiffened as she started to cum. She pulled my head into her breasts, urging me to suck harder. I felt her squirt around my cock, her juices running down my shaft, onto my balls and then I could feel it running down to my arsehole. As she came down from her orgasm, she relaxed, we both moaned as she slid all the way onto my cock. I. Perfectly normal.The difference, he tells me, is that I didn't actually do it, except that one time when I didn't realize how strongly it would impact her. When push came to shove (and what exactly does that mean, anyway?), I not only didn't join in with the gang-not-rape-exactly, I took steps to stop it. My virtue, he tells me, is stronger than my lust, for either sex or vengeance. For all that she'd been my enemy, I'd helped rather than hurt somebody who needed help. So I'm a good person.Well. I looked across at my teenage daughter who was oblivious to what I was looking at and as I glanced in her direction, she was immersed in her music, her eyes thankfully were closed as she concentrated with her ear buds in.As a mother I think my reaction should have been instinctively of protection, after all, what I was witnessing was a sexual crime, but I was neither alarmed or concerned, in fact I was secretly aroused as my eyes flitted between my young daughter and this middle-aged man. He pressed his thickening cock against her skin, stroking it into a hardened battering ram. Holding the lips of her cunt wide, he flicked the small trigger and watched the man below them fondle the head of an impressive erection. ‘Lean forward,’ he breathed in her ear. ‘I’ll show him how to fuck a woman.’ ‘Arrogant son of a bitch,’ she murmured, but complied with his order. Dropping her foot from the shelf, she braced her hands on each side of the wooden window enclosure. The man below.
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