#42774 - The professor liked a lot of bullshit in the papers we wrote for the class. The lad again lifted his lady and headed for the house, made it to the master bedroom, moved to the mattress, and then he was on top, between her thighs, and his entrance of his mother but a moment away. Nothing was planned, no discussion, no thinking; only feelings of overwhelming love and trust and desire had burst forth in her bosom for this fabulous son of hers, the man of the house, the male of her dreams.
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