My Cousins Birthday Party
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My Mum's Birthday (part 3) free porn video
The Morning After:-
I woke about 8 am. We were lying on my mum's double bed, and we were both naked. Mum was still sound asleep. The lower half of the bed felt distinctly damp. I thought about what had happened last night (see previous stories). God, it had felt so good, and the fact that it was taboo had made it all the more exciting. One thing was for sure; I had got the taste for it now and wanted more. But how would my mum react? Would she say it had all been a terrible misjudgment and tell me it couldn't happen again? She had been an enthusiastic partner all right, but would she had done it if she hadn't been so drunk. I doubted it. Would she even remember what had happened? I mulled it over, and – though I'm not proud of it – I came to the conclusion that the best solution would be to try and keep her well oiled. As she had drunk so much yesterday, I reckoned that some of the alcohol would still be in her system, but I needed to top it up pretty quickly. It was likely she would be very dehydrated when she woke up, so that would be the ideal opportunity. How could I do that without it being too obvious?
Suddenly I had an idea. I quietly slipped out of bed without waking her, threw on some clothes and drove round to the supermarket. I picked up two bottles of sweet sparkling wine. I knew that being sweet and sparkling it tasted fairly innocuous, even though it was 7%. I returned to her house, put the bottles in the fridge, changed into a dressing gown and waited. Presently I heard her stirring and walking to the toilet where she let out a huge gush of pee before returning to bed. I followed her into the bedroom and wished her a cheery Good Morning. How are you? I said, and she sorted of groaned by way of reply. God, I feel parched she said. Excellent, I thought, and said: I'll get you a nice refreshing drink, then.
I went down to the kitchen and poured a large glass of sparkling wine and took it up to her. I was careful to use a straight glass rather than a wine glass. She sat up in bed and the cover slipped from her revealing her breasts, but she rather primly pulled it up again. She took the glass from me and drained it more or less in one go. That's good, she said. I'll get you another, I replied, went downstairs and poured another large glass. She drained that one almost as quickly. I thought: this is going well, and went and poured her another.
She took a good drink out of that one and leaned over to put the glass on the bedside table. As she did so, the cover slipped from her, but this time she made no attempt to cover her chest. The wine was having its intended effect.
So did you enjoy your birthday? I asked her. She looked a bit puzzled, as though she was trying to remember. I think I got rather tiddly, she said, I hope I didn't disgrace myself. Well, you certainly put away an amazing quantity of booze, I said, but I have no complaints about the effect it had on you. She looked at me strangely and then looked away. If she does remember anything, I thought, it doesn't look like she's going to say anything about it, that's an encouraging sign. Emboldened, I said: drink up and I'll get you another one, you must be very dehydrated, it will prevent you getting a headache. She did as she was told, and I went and got her another glass; by this time I was well into the second bottle. When I gave her the glass she asked: what is this anyway? I thought she had had enough to be told the truth, so I said: sparkling wine. She raised her eyebrows, but didn't protest. I thought I was starting to get a bit light-headed, she said.
Well don't stand there like a butler, she continued, come and give your mum a little cuddle like you used to when you were a boy, she said, patting the bed. I didn't need to be told twice, so I took off the dressing gown and slipped in beside her. She felt deliciously smooth and rounded, and I held her close against me. I decided that I wouldn't push my luck by trying anything on this morning, and in truth I was pretty shagged out by last night and needed a little time to recharge my batteries.
I kissed her gently, then took my arms from around her and lay on my side looking at her. You are the most gorgeous mum a son could wish for, I said. She looked really pleased, but then frowned a little and said: you don't think I'm getting too fat, do you? Well, you have put on a bit of weight, I replied, but I think it really suits you, and it has filled out your breasts nicely, I ventured. Mmm, she said, and raised her chest a little admiring them. Don't you think my tummy's getting too big, though? Not at all, I honestly replied, I think a nice round tummy is very sexy, not everybody likes a woman who looks like a stick; and I caressed her belly with my hand. She lay back with a satisfied smile on her face. I'm glad you think I'm still desirable, she said. Well I also think you're still proud of your body, I said, because the clothes you wear don't attempt to hide your curves, and you certainly get plenty of admiring glances, I think it's great when a more mature woman has the confidence to dress in a sexy way. She was really lapping this up, but as far as I was concerned it was very much the truth.
She asked me to pass her her drink, which I was more than happy to do. She had nearly finished it, so I asked if she wanted another. God, she laughed. I'm going to be pissed before I even get out of bed, but she knocked the rest back and passed me the glass anyway. I returned with another large glass, which she gratefully started to drink, and I got in beside her. We lay there for ages, kissing, caressing, saying little, just enjoying the proximity of our bodies. After some while she asked if there was any more of the wine left. I went downstairs and poured the rest of the bottle and gave it to her. She was really starting to look wasted.
About midday I asked her if she wanted something to eat, as I was starting to feel hungry. She looked unsure, so I said: We could go to a pub and get an all-say breakfast. At the mention of the word pub she visibly brightened and said: Yes, that's a good idea, I just need to have a pee first. She got out of bed rather unsteadily and went to the toilet. While she was relieving herself I was thinking. The thing was, I didn't really want this turning into another all-day session, today I wanted her all to myself. I hatched a cunning plan.....
When she returned from the loo I told her to put on a pair of her black shiny leggings. I just adore leggings, the thin stretchy material clung to her like a second skin, revealing the swell of her thighs, bottom and belly. I had remembered that my dad liked her to wear a one-piece swimming costume with a halter neck top which moulded her breasts very revealingly; but he always had to tie and untie the strap at the back of her neck, because mum had a problem with her shoulder. Until and unless it was secured in this way she was effectively topless. . So I asked her to put on her black one-piece swimsuit. She did as requested, and I tied the strap at the back of her neck for her. The material had worn thin over the years, and the shape of her prominent nipples was very obvious. As it was now a couple of sizes too small for her, a spectacular amount of cleavage was on view. She looked at herself admiringly in the mirror. What's it like having a sexy mum, she asked. I'm the luckiest boy alive, I replied. Mmm, I think you are, she said.
I had decided to go by bus, as it was a Saturday, and parking was a problem. A frequent route stops near her house. So I helped mum downstairs and we walked to the stop. When the bus came and mum got on, the driver did a double-take, and he got a real eyeful as she bent over to pay our fares. He fumbled with the ticket machine as he drank in the view. The bus stopped almost outside the place I had in mind. The pub was large and busy. We spent some time walking around looking for somewhere to sit. Mum looked incredible in her outfit, and I was really proud to be showing her off. She was getting plenty of approving glances, the men surreptitiously ogling all the boob flesh on display, hoping their wives/girlfriends wouldn't notice. She was obviously very pleased with the impression she was making. We found somewhere to sit, and I went up to the bar to order the breakfasts, plus a coffee for me and a pint of lager for mum.
Mum had finished the lager by the time the breakfasts had arrived, so I went and bought her another one. We were sitting in quite a prominent position in the pub, and mum was enjoying all the dirty looks she was getting. As I had anticipated, the breakfast gave her a renewed thirst, and before long she was asking for her third pint. I gave her some money and said: why don't you go up to the bar yourself, I know you're dying to show yourself off. She pretended to look offended, but grabbed hold of the table and managed to haul herself to her feet. She weaved unsteadily towards the bar, taking her time so all the blokes could have a good look. She ordered her pint, but instead of returning to her seat, leaned back against the bar with it in very coquettish way and took a long swig. Nobody could avoid seeing her there in her voluptuous beauty as they went up to the bar.
I watched the reaction of the customers coming and going for quite a while, my mum luxuriating in all the attention with a satisfied smile on her face. I noticed that from time to time her legs would start to buckle, and she'd have to hoist herself up against the bar again. Although she had had a pee before we left home, I knew that 1 ½ litres of wine and all the beer would be making their presence felt quite insistently in her bladder by now. When she had nearly finished her third pint, I walked over and joined her at the bar. Would you like another drink? I asked, and of course she said Yes, so I ordered another. Shall we go and sit down again, I suggested, but she said: I really need a pee. But then a look of concern crossed her face, and I could sense the cogs in her addled brain turning. In order to pee, she was thinking, I have to remove my swimsuit so I can pull my leggings down. But in order to get my swimsuit on and off it has to be untied and tied at the neck. Which I can't do. So she made no move to go to the toilet, and after a few moments she reluctantly said: OK, let's sit down. We made our uncertain way over to a couple of spare seats, and she started on her fourth pint, drinking more slowly this time.
I made light conversation, but I could see she was looking more and more distracted, and shifting in that tell-tale way in her seat. In mock innocence, I asked her if everything was all right. Yes, she said, rather uncertainly, but her expression told a different story. We sat there for a bit longer, Mum getting more and more agitated, until I judged the time was right, and then said to her quietly: Let's go home and make love. It seemed at first as though she hadn't understood, then she looked very relieved and said Yes please, quickly dispatching the rest of her pint.
I helped her to her feet and steered her out of the pub and round to the bus stop. Whilst we waited she was dancing up and down, trying to cross her legs without falling over, and it was obvious for all to see that she was nursing an extremely full bladder. Some of those waiting at the stop looked shocked, some looked amused, but they were all fascinated by her antics. Thankfully, a bus soon arrived. It was a lady driver this time, but even she took a good look at what was on show as mum paid our fares. It was only a short journey, but mum had her hand clamped firmly between her legs, and was rocking gently back and forwards; she was well past caring what anybody thought of her.
At her stop we more or less fell off the bus, and with my assistance she almost ran to the house, despite her inebriated state, and we stumbled up the stairs to the wet room. She just about managed to stand unaided whilst I quickly stripped, before peeling off her swimsuit and leggings. Immediately I was doused in a powerful hot jet of piss, and squatting under her I was hosed down from head to foot. Eventually, the flow eased off, and as I was licking off the last drips from her fanny, she looked down at me and said: Did you enjoy that? I looked up at her with a silly grin on my face and said mmm. Do you like it when your drunken mum pees all over you? she asked, and let go another brief spurt. I certainly do, I said, getting to my feet and putting my arms around her as I turned on the shower. The feeling of our wet bodies pressed together felt delicious, my penis was aching for action, and I would have loved to have a soapy fuck, but in her present unsteady state I was afraid she might fall, and the hard surfaces of the wet room were rather unforgiving. So I turned off the shower and towelled us both down as best I could.
Mum was led willingly to the bedroom, where I lay back on the bed, my intentions obvious for her to see. I manoeuvred her on top of me and lowered her onto my waiting cock, which slipped into her effortlessly up to the hilt. She let out a deep sigh of contentment. You feel so good inside me, she said, and I wasn't about to argue. I was pleased that she was not quite so incapably drunk as she had been last night, and I'm fairly sure she was fully aware of what she was doing. I'm going to make it last this time, I thought, and started moving slowly but firmly up and down. I absolutely love the cowgirl position, as it allows me the best view of the woman I'm pleasuring, and I just loved the look and feel of my mum's ripe body moving on top of me. I gently kneaded her hanging breasts as I eased in and out of her. After a while, mum sort of collapsed forward onto me, squishing her breasts and belly against my chest. I put my arms around her caressing her back, and brought my hips up so I could penetrate her better. She started pushing back against me, so I gradually increased the pace. She sat up again, and I started thrusting hard, the sight of her sitting astride me with her boobs and belly bouncing up and down was priceless. She started to look flushed and her breathing became harder, and her orgasm when it came was noisy and prolonged. She panted, her chest heaved and her skin glistened. As the waves of pleasure subsided, she collapsed on top of me. I continued stirring the pot gently for a while, and when I felt her start to grind her hips against me I increased the pace again. This time I couldn't hold out any longer, and we came together in a bath of sweat. When she had got her breath back, she said: My God! You're still hard, you really like your mum, don't you. I certainly do, I assured her. We carried on kissing and cuddling for ages, until her movements told me she was ready for another hard fucking. I happily obliged, and she was soon thrashing and screaming for a third time.
After that we must have drifted off to sleep for a while. I was woken again when she rolled off me and got up to go to the toilet. After she'd emptied her bladder, she came back and said: I'm thirsty. I'm parched as well, I said, what would you like to drink. Just water, she said, so I went downstairs and got us two large glasses. I looked at the bedside clock, it was about 7 pm. I must be going soon, I'm afraid, I told her, are you going out again this evening. I don't think so, she said, I'll have a quiet night in, I'm working tomorrow morning anyway. She looked how I felt, completely shagged out.
You are absolutely amazing, I told her. You're not so bad yourself, she replied with a grin. We kissed tenderly, and I let myself out of the house and drove home. I also had a quiet night in, replaying the events of the weekend in my mind. I slept soundly.
I woke about 8 am. We were lying on my mum's double bed, and we were both naked. Mum was still sound asleep. The lower half of the bed felt distinctly damp. I thought about what had happened last night (see previous stories). God, it had felt so good, and the fact that it was taboo had made it all the more exciting. One thing was for sure; I had got the taste for it now and wanted more. But how would my mum react? Would she say it had all been a terrible misjudgment and tell me it couldn't happen again? She had been an enthusiastic partner all right, but would she had done it if she hadn't been so drunk. I doubted it. Would she even remember what had happened? I mulled it over, and – though I'm not proud of it – I came to the conclusion that the best solution would be to try and keep her well oiled. As she had drunk so much yesterday, I reckoned that some of the alcohol would still be in her system, but I needed to top it up pretty quickly. It was likely she would be very dehydrated when she woke up, so that would be the ideal opportunity. How could I do that without it being too obvious?
Suddenly I had an idea. I quietly slipped out of bed without waking her, threw on some clothes and drove round to the supermarket. I picked up two bottles of sweet sparkling wine. I knew that being sweet and sparkling it tasted fairly innocuous, even though it was 7%. I returned to her house, put the bottles in the fridge, changed into a dressing gown and waited. Presently I heard her stirring and walking to the toilet where she let out a huge gush of pee before returning to bed. I followed her into the bedroom and wished her a cheery Good Morning. How are you? I said, and she sorted of groaned by way of reply. God, I feel parched she said. Excellent, I thought, and said: I'll get you a nice refreshing drink, then.
I went down to the kitchen and poured a large glass of sparkling wine and took it up to her. I was careful to use a straight glass rather than a wine glass. She sat up in bed and the cover slipped from her revealing her breasts, but she rather primly pulled it up again. She took the glass from me and drained it more or less in one go. That's good, she said. I'll get you another, I replied, went downstairs and poured another large glass. She drained that one almost as quickly. I thought: this is going well, and went and poured her another.
She took a good drink out of that one and leaned over to put the glass on the bedside table. As she did so, the cover slipped from her, but this time she made no attempt to cover her chest. The wine was having its intended effect.
So did you enjoy your birthday? I asked her. She looked a bit puzzled, as though she was trying to remember. I think I got rather tiddly, she said, I hope I didn't disgrace myself. Well, you certainly put away an amazing quantity of booze, I said, but I have no complaints about the effect it had on you. She looked at me strangely and then looked away. If she does remember anything, I thought, it doesn't look like she's going to say anything about it, that's an encouraging sign. Emboldened, I said: drink up and I'll get you another one, you must be very dehydrated, it will prevent you getting a headache. She did as she was told, and I went and got her another glass; by this time I was well into the second bottle. When I gave her the glass she asked: what is this anyway? I thought she had had enough to be told the truth, so I said: sparkling wine. She raised her eyebrows, but didn't protest. I thought I was starting to get a bit light-headed, she said.
Well don't stand there like a butler, she continued, come and give your mum a little cuddle like you used to when you were a boy, she said, patting the bed. I didn't need to be told twice, so I took off the dressing gown and slipped in beside her. She felt deliciously smooth and rounded, and I held her close against me. I decided that I wouldn't push my luck by trying anything on this morning, and in truth I was pretty shagged out by last night and needed a little time to recharge my batteries.
I kissed her gently, then took my arms from around her and lay on my side looking at her. You are the most gorgeous mum a son could wish for, I said. She looked really pleased, but then frowned a little and said: you don't think I'm getting too fat, do you? Well, you have put on a bit of weight, I replied, but I think it really suits you, and it has filled out your breasts nicely, I ventured. Mmm, she said, and raised her chest a little admiring them. Don't you think my tummy's getting too big, though? Not at all, I honestly replied, I think a nice round tummy is very sexy, not everybody likes a woman who looks like a stick; and I caressed her belly with my hand. She lay back with a satisfied smile on her face. I'm glad you think I'm still desirable, she said. Well I also think you're still proud of your body, I said, because the clothes you wear don't attempt to hide your curves, and you certainly get plenty of admiring glances, I think it's great when a more mature woman has the confidence to dress in a sexy way. She was really lapping this up, but as far as I was concerned it was very much the truth.
She asked me to pass her her drink, which I was more than happy to do. She had nearly finished it, so I asked if she wanted another. God, she laughed. I'm going to be pissed before I even get out of bed, but she knocked the rest back and passed me the glass anyway. I returned with another large glass, which she gratefully started to drink, and I got in beside her. We lay there for ages, kissing, caressing, saying little, just enjoying the proximity of our bodies. After some while she asked if there was any more of the wine left. I went downstairs and poured the rest of the bottle and gave it to her. She was really starting to look wasted.
About midday I asked her if she wanted something to eat, as I was starting to feel hungry. She looked unsure, so I said: We could go to a pub and get an all-say breakfast. At the mention of the word pub she visibly brightened and said: Yes, that's a good idea, I just need to have a pee first. She got out of bed rather unsteadily and went to the toilet. While she was relieving herself I was thinking. The thing was, I didn't really want this turning into another all-day session, today I wanted her all to myself. I hatched a cunning plan.....
When she returned from the loo I told her to put on a pair of her black shiny leggings. I just adore leggings, the thin stretchy material clung to her like a second skin, revealing the swell of her thighs, bottom and belly. I had remembered that my dad liked her to wear a one-piece swimming costume with a halter neck top which moulded her breasts very revealingly; but he always had to tie and untie the strap at the back of her neck, because mum had a problem with her shoulder. Until and unless it was secured in this way she was effectively topless. . So I asked her to put on her black one-piece swimsuit. She did as requested, and I tied the strap at the back of her neck for her. The material had worn thin over the years, and the shape of her prominent nipples was very obvious. As it was now a couple of sizes too small for her, a spectacular amount of cleavage was on view. She looked at herself admiringly in the mirror. What's it like having a sexy mum, she asked. I'm the luckiest boy alive, I replied. Mmm, I think you are, she said.
I had decided to go by bus, as it was a Saturday, and parking was a problem. A frequent route stops near her house. So I helped mum downstairs and we walked to the stop. When the bus came and mum got on, the driver did a double-take, and he got a real eyeful as she bent over to pay our fares. He fumbled with the ticket machine as he drank in the view. The bus stopped almost outside the place I had in mind. The pub was large and busy. We spent some time walking around looking for somewhere to sit. Mum looked incredible in her outfit, and I was really proud to be showing her off. She was getting plenty of approving glances, the men surreptitiously ogling all the boob flesh on display, hoping their wives/girlfriends wouldn't notice. She was obviously very pleased with the impression she was making. We found somewhere to sit, and I went up to the bar to order the breakfasts, plus a coffee for me and a pint of lager for mum.
Mum had finished the lager by the time the breakfasts had arrived, so I went and bought her another one. We were sitting in quite a prominent position in the pub, and mum was enjoying all the dirty looks she was getting. As I had anticipated, the breakfast gave her a renewed thirst, and before long she was asking for her third pint. I gave her some money and said: why don't you go up to the bar yourself, I know you're dying to show yourself off. She pretended to look offended, but grabbed hold of the table and managed to haul herself to her feet. She weaved unsteadily towards the bar, taking her time so all the blokes could have a good look. She ordered her pint, but instead of returning to her seat, leaned back against the bar with it in very coquettish way and took a long swig. Nobody could avoid seeing her there in her voluptuous beauty as they went up to the bar.
I watched the reaction of the customers coming and going for quite a while, my mum luxuriating in all the attention with a satisfied smile on her face. I noticed that from time to time her legs would start to buckle, and she'd have to hoist herself up against the bar again. Although she had had a pee before we left home, I knew that 1 ½ litres of wine and all the beer would be making their presence felt quite insistently in her bladder by now. When she had nearly finished her third pint, I walked over and joined her at the bar. Would you like another drink? I asked, and of course she said Yes, so I ordered another. Shall we go and sit down again, I suggested, but she said: I really need a pee. But then a look of concern crossed her face, and I could sense the cogs in her addled brain turning. In order to pee, she was thinking, I have to remove my swimsuit so I can pull my leggings down. But in order to get my swimsuit on and off it has to be untied and tied at the neck. Which I can't do. So she made no move to go to the toilet, and after a few moments she reluctantly said: OK, let's sit down. We made our uncertain way over to a couple of spare seats, and she started on her fourth pint, drinking more slowly this time.
I made light conversation, but I could see she was looking more and more distracted, and shifting in that tell-tale way in her seat. In mock innocence, I asked her if everything was all right. Yes, she said, rather uncertainly, but her expression told a different story. We sat there for a bit longer, Mum getting more and more agitated, until I judged the time was right, and then said to her quietly: Let's go home and make love. It seemed at first as though she hadn't understood, then she looked very relieved and said Yes please, quickly dispatching the rest of her pint.
I helped her to her feet and steered her out of the pub and round to the bus stop. Whilst we waited she was dancing up and down, trying to cross her legs without falling over, and it was obvious for all to see that she was nursing an extremely full bladder. Some of those waiting at the stop looked shocked, some looked amused, but they were all fascinated by her antics. Thankfully, a bus soon arrived. It was a lady driver this time, but even she took a good look at what was on show as mum paid our fares. It was only a short journey, but mum had her hand clamped firmly between her legs, and was rocking gently back and forwards; she was well past caring what anybody thought of her.
At her stop we more or less fell off the bus, and with my assistance she almost ran to the house, despite her inebriated state, and we stumbled up the stairs to the wet room. She just about managed to stand unaided whilst I quickly stripped, before peeling off her swimsuit and leggings. Immediately I was doused in a powerful hot jet of piss, and squatting under her I was hosed down from head to foot. Eventually, the flow eased off, and as I was licking off the last drips from her fanny, she looked down at me and said: Did you enjoy that? I looked up at her with a silly grin on my face and said mmm. Do you like it when your drunken mum pees all over you? she asked, and let go another brief spurt. I certainly do, I said, getting to my feet and putting my arms around her as I turned on the shower. The feeling of our wet bodies pressed together felt delicious, my penis was aching for action, and I would have loved to have a soapy fuck, but in her present unsteady state I was afraid she might fall, and the hard surfaces of the wet room were rather unforgiving. So I turned off the shower and towelled us both down as best I could.
Mum was led willingly to the bedroom, where I lay back on the bed, my intentions obvious for her to see. I manoeuvred her on top of me and lowered her onto my waiting cock, which slipped into her effortlessly up to the hilt. She let out a deep sigh of contentment. You feel so good inside me, she said, and I wasn't about to argue. I was pleased that she was not quite so incapably drunk as she had been last night, and I'm fairly sure she was fully aware of what she was doing. I'm going to make it last this time, I thought, and started moving slowly but firmly up and down. I absolutely love the cowgirl position, as it allows me the best view of the woman I'm pleasuring, and I just loved the look and feel of my mum's ripe body moving on top of me. I gently kneaded her hanging breasts as I eased in and out of her. After a while, mum sort of collapsed forward onto me, squishing her breasts and belly against my chest. I put my arms around her caressing her back, and brought my hips up so I could penetrate her better. She started pushing back against me, so I gradually increased the pace. She sat up again, and I started thrusting hard, the sight of her sitting astride me with her boobs and belly bouncing up and down was priceless. She started to look flushed and her breathing became harder, and her orgasm when it came was noisy and prolonged. She panted, her chest heaved and her skin glistened. As the waves of pleasure subsided, she collapsed on top of me. I continued stirring the pot gently for a while, and when I felt her start to grind her hips against me I increased the pace again. This time I couldn't hold out any longer, and we came together in a bath of sweat. When she had got her breath back, she said: My God! You're still hard, you really like your mum, don't you. I certainly do, I assured her. We carried on kissing and cuddling for ages, until her movements told me she was ready for another hard fucking. I happily obliged, and she was soon thrashing and screaming for a third time.
After that we must have drifted off to sleep for a while. I was woken again when she rolled off me and got up to go to the toilet. After she'd emptied her bladder, she came back and said: I'm thirsty. I'm parched as well, I said, what would you like to drink. Just water, she said, so I went downstairs and got us two large glasses. I looked at the bedside clock, it was about 7 pm. I must be going soon, I'm afraid, I told her, are you going out again this evening. I don't think so, she said, I'll have a quiet night in, I'm working tomorrow morning anyway. She looked how I felt, completely shagged out.
You are absolutely amazing, I told her. You're not so bad yourself, she replied with a grin. We kissed tenderly, and I let myself out of the house and drove home. I also had a quiet night in, replaying the events of the weekend in my mind. I slept soundly.
Aspen
- 13.12.2021
- 14
- 0
