Milf Fun With Husband Frends

Admittedly, I didn't feel much like having sex, but for God's sake, I was exhausted! The betrayal was enormous, and I was too weak at the time to fight back. I couldn't leave him, with one infant hanging on my nipple, and another on the way. For a long time I pretended to myself that it wasn't happening, and by the time I felt strong enough... well, by then I could tell it was over, he became all loving and perfect Dad-ish in the guilty aftermath, and then it felt just... too late. It's happened at least three times since then. It's almost seasonal. So, even before I bucked the system, and fell for John, I had become sort of reconciled to the Parisian habits Jerome had inherited from his French father. At least Francesca was quite nice, and seemed suitably ashamed of herself behind the breezy exterior she normally exhibited in my presence. From what I could tell, she had no intention of actually trying to take Jerome away from me. She wasn't a possessive lover.I could hear the fear. I remembered once, long ago, my younger sister Samantha had let me see her breasts. They had been tiny, too, and with similarly large nipples. They tasted pretty good, too, as I recall... "But you have to think of the bright side, honey," I said.Aimee sputtered, rolling her eyes. Damn, she had some volatile breath. Better not get her near an open flame, I thought. "Yeah? Li' what?" she asked challengingly, jerking her top back down. "look'at'em! I got mus-kee-do bites, Dad! Boys ma' fun'a'me alla time!"I glanced around nervously, but remembered how dark the windows were. I let Aimee remain topless, knowing that if I kept adjusting her top and she kept pulling it back down, she just might rip her dress. "Well, honey, think about it. When you're older, they won't sag."My daughter gave me a blank stare. I could tell she was having trouble focusing. "They won' sag if the' fake, too," she pointed out, making an effort to sound lucid. It wasn't working.I sighed. "Well... aren't they.
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