1. Tartan Blanket


    Date: 9/9/2016, Categories: Cheating, Author: marlowe, Rating: 6, Source: LushStories

    sandwiches on the kitchen table. “She’s devastated. We all are. But she’ll feel better tomorrow. After the funeral,” was all Eddie said, as he bit his teeth into a ham sandwich. “Cancer and only in her early-twenties,” Eileen sighed. “She’s only a child for Christ sake,” she barked, staring at the reminder of her Catholic faith hanging on the wall, as if the man on the cross would give her the answer. “You know we’ll have to stop using these,” Eileen said, taking a cigarette from Eddie’s outstretched hand. “There not good for you,” she declared, drawing smoke into her lungs, wagging a finger at his son. “Your too smart and certainly too handsome to start smoking,” she offered, brushing her hand against the side of his face. “I wished I was eighteen again and know what I know now,” she sighed. The hot cup touching his lips prevented him from confessing that the last woman he shared a cigarette with, her husband died on his own vomit. While he was fucking her brains out. Not even scalding hot tea seemed to bother his father, he thought, the hot tea almost burning his lips. He must have an asbestos tongue, he decided, watching him drain the cup. “I’ll go and check on my brother,” Eddie volunteered, scraping the stool across the kitchen floor as he stood up, his footfalls trailing in fading echoes up the creaking stairs. Eileen fussed around the kitchen sink, his eyes following her every move, catching fleeting glances of her huge tits bouncing inside a tight blouse and her ...
    little bubble-shaped bottom wiggling enticingly beneath a snug pair of cotton trousers. A tired face hidden beneath too much makeup and short blonde hair showing evidence of dark roots, Eileen Brand was no real beauty. But with her knickers creeping inside the crack of her bottom and a pair of tits that could stop traffic, she was always going to get his undivided attention. Washing and drying dishes, clinking cups and rattling plates into cupboards, humming a tune inside her head, every movement suggestive, lifting and lowering, bending over, the fabric stretching over curvy buttocks, disappearing between both cheeks when she stood up, her unabashed performance leaving him with an uncomfortable awakening inside his pants. Did she need to bend over that often? He thought. Or was Eileen teasing him? If she was he didn’t want her to stop. A shuffle on the stool, his hand flirting with the growing muscle inside his pants, his eyes transfixed on her womanly curves, his head swimming in a sea of hormonal fantasies, thoughts and images forming in his tortured mind. Ripping her blouse open. Her big tits spilling into his hand. Fondling one and squeezing the other. Burying his face between her cleavage. Feasting on one nipple and biting the other. Breathing in her sex until she begged him to fuck her. “That’ll have to do,” she sighed, turning quickly on her heels, the unexpected gesture breaking his lustful thoughts. He cleared his throat and the erotic images from his mind. “Will Malcolm ...
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