She counted fifteen, most were women, but there were five men, not including the artist. Yes, she thought, the artist. It was better to think of him l...ke that rather than the teacher. Of the five men, four were young students, looking just as she expected art students to look. But the fifth did not look like a student at all. She was stunned and stared in almost open mouthed disbelief. He was fifty, if he was a day, balding, stocky, but it was not that which took her breath away. She knew. Fiona was as good as Meg Ryan in her orgasm impression, squirming and moaning for Tony’s benefit. She even had me convinced and I knew where my fingers were. It was the ‘oh my got you aren’t wearing any knickers’ that got him convinced, thank God there wasn’t any other traffic around, we almost ended up in the ditch. After a couple of fake orgasms for Fiona I decided to up the ante. “Hey Fiona, you have had your pleasure, what about a blow job”, I acted out, moving her face over my closed. She could feel each pump of his semen into her, her mind’s eye imagining the passages in his thick cock pulsing with the globs of ejaculate as they coursed from his tight sac and through the base of his shaft, along his length, and into her open folds, until they escaped from his body and into hers, coating her scooping cervix with his essence, until she was impregnated.That last thought made her wriggle and try and escape under him, as he lay atop her, resting, his sweaty chest heaving against. It was a small move, but it indicated a significant decision on Bert's part. He had definitely been angry at his mother, and he had wanted to strike back at her. Seeing her agony, her remorse, and her extreme attempt at penance, though, it was hard for him to maintain that anger. Except for her chasing after fads, she had been a good mother, and he had no doubt of her love for him. After this morning, he was actually a bit concerned about the nature of that love.She needed someone to be her.
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