.” Aron explained with a small chuckle. “Really, baby, you know how much you love lasagna. Just come home.”Lasagna? Okay, he could live with tha.... And he could feel his mouth water just at the sound of that. What if Aron sucked at cooking or it was some kind of lasagna only fashion victims ate? It didn’t matter at this point. If Aron was cooking, he was going to make the effort to eat it. And say that it was awesome.“Well, you convinced me. I’ll try to finish here and get home as fast as I. Trent and I shared a remarkably quiet dinner that night, exchanging little more than polite conversation and forced pleasantries. I seem to recall a minimum of direct eye-contact.In the coming days, I found my mind replaying this close-encounter and each time, I could not deny a pleasured reaction. Just the thought of a young boy seeing his mother masturbate – as so surely he had, was turning me on unbearably. Perhaps because I am very slight – barely five-three and with a less than matronly. More

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