“Look at the mouth on you, now!” Paul chuckled, slapping her face with his spit-covered dick.“Mmrrhh—stop it, you bloody bastard... g-get it o...t..!” she whimpered again, sounding very much like a British porn star, still sobbing and crying, her face drenched with various fluids. By then her cute features were finely covered by a layer of sweat, tears, her and Paul's saliva and her very own regurgitated drinks. I reached down between her thighs and teased her clit again. “Hnn!! Ahh.. n-no...!”. There was nothing I could do if she enjoyed the attention. She was a free agent. My Mom, not my wife.Yet I took a close interest, feeling a twang of jealousy and uncomfortable curiosity.Next day Hassan's friends all greeted Ann and joked more with her. Not all of them spoke fluent English but those that did acted as translators. They would laugh ripely among themselves about something, then translate to us what they wanted us to hear I think. Hassan joked, " Yourr motherr is a very nice woman.. More

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