"Fuck!' she muttered groggily.Before I could left her back in position she dug her heels into the carpet and pushed herself back into my lap. Her shor... skirt rode up as she did, and now mom was sitting in my lap with just her panties and the gusset of her pantyhose protecting her from the turgid penis trapped in my shorts.I waited a few minutes to see if mom was going to readjust her skirt or wake up but she just sat in my lap, for all intents and purposes comatose.The situation was just too. I was covered in it. A roar went up from the crowd. "Hey Pete, how many cocks you reckon she can take?" Ricky asked. "I don't know," Pete said. "Who here reckons we ought to find out?" A chorus of wild whoops and hollers filled the room. Ricky ran out of the room and came back with a margarita glass the size of an oil pan on a 1970 Camaro. "You just hold this right here and open your mouth," he said, shoving the glass into my chest. Ricky unzipped his pants and took the first turn. He shoved. She stopped at one point and said something about my books. "I judge a man by how many different publications of Shakespeare he has. You have 3 different ones, so you pass lover." That was just dumb luck on my part. I gathered books like some people gathered flowers. I picked them up and kept them all until they fell apart. "Are you ready to really fuck me now, lover? No more faking it my man. Let's do this. I want to use the bed this time." This was it. I was going to lose my cherry. We. ‘Make me undress, Geoffie. Make me show you everything.’ He smiled and winked – then looked at her with a stern Sergeant-Major frown. She giggled, and he glared at her so menacingly she shivered. He spoke gruffly. ‘Take that off, Amy. Take it off and throw it away. Right now.’ Trembling, she pulled the nightie over her head and tossed it into the corner, then stood with her arms crossed over her breasts. Her hair fell like a curtain in front of her, covering almost as much as her babydoll.
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