Indian Maid Key Hole Spy

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When the door bell rang that Saturday afternoonhe quickly slipped on a pair of shorts before answering.When he opened the door,Frank stood smiling at him."Hi Mark,your mom home?" Hi Frank,no she went out of town with my dad and sister,come on in." Well,maybe just a minute,I'm sorry I missed her,Jess never said anythingabout taking the family." Would you like something to drank?"Mark asked."Sure,if you have a cold beer I'd like one."Mark brought two beers out and sat at they sat at the table.Frank smiled as he said,"You dranking now?" I am when I'm alone,I like the taste."Mark noticed Frank looking him over,his eyes resting on his smooth hairlesschest,then down to his thighs.Mark smiled as he said,"I saw you you know." You saw me what?" You fucking my mom."Marks said boldly,and smiled as Frank choked and spewedbeer across the table."You did what?" I watched while you fucked mom,both ways."Mark said,smiling again."You plan on telling your dad?" Hell no,why would I do that?" What about. I soon realized that she was out of her mind, or who else would wear a translucent gown without a bra? The outline of her perfect boobs was clearly visible, while her pink nipples could also be seen through the thin fabric. As I sat down on the table, the robe parted revealing her left tit. I hastily sat down trying to hide my erection. Lost in her thoughts she didn't pay the least attention to dress. This is the perfect time to enter her juicy cunt, my mind screamed. I smiled to myself, knowing that I could easily trick her to allow my rod to enter her pussy. "You look bushed, mom," I spoke, " I am sure you could do with some wine. It will help your nerves to unwind, and you would loosen up relieving you of this anxiety." I got up before she could utter a single word and walked over to the bar. Her tit still hung limply, while she stared at the ceiling. Taking her glass, I put a little wine into it, along with a liberal amount of a strong whiskey. I took the glass over to the.
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As she sat back on her heels, she mischievously considered giving Peter’s rear end a playful swat, but decided it might not be the best moment. He seemed very relaxed and Emma’s confidence rose. Things were going well. ‘I should do your front now, Peter, dear,’ she told him in a soft voice. He put his head up and looked at her for a moment, and whether it was the beer, wine and cognac he’d consumed clouding his judgement, he didn’t question what his wife was asking, just heaved himself over. Making sure he didn’t catch her looking at his ‘thing’ if he happened to be looking, she began rubbing cream onto her husband’s shins, which weren’t too badly burned. His thighs were another matter, though, and they’d taken a lot of sun. Unfortunately for Emma’s plans, Peter’s golf shorts were pretty long. With greasy hands she started at both his knees, gently massaging in the soothing cream. Peter’s eyes were covered by his forearm, so she couldn’t gauge his reaction as her hands drifted.

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