Mrs Jackson
I was sitting at my desk naked, since it was summer, stroking my rod to the screen image of a young man putting the meat to a blond MILF. My fisting was synchronized with the thrusts into her hair-topped hole and I was trying to time my ejaculation with his. Movement in my peripheral vision stopped me and I swiveled my head to see Mrs. Jackson, my neighbor lady, standing in the doorway only six feet away holding a cardboard box. Her gaze was plainly fixed on my erection. Without a word she put...