South Indian Lady Drinks Her Stepson’s Thick Cum

I didn’t worry about everyone else’s sleeping arrangements. I barely had time to make sure that the food was put up and we all showered before falling asleep where we could. I don’t even remember when Alicia and Mariamne joined us, either. I was entirely drained in every possible way by the time that the Sandman claimed my poor flesh. It was one helluva day, in all of the best ways, courtesy of my legal, very beloved, first wife, though she had plenty of help.“Wake up, wake up, wake up!” I was jolted awake, “Breakfast in bed, birthday boy! Served up by yours truly! It is Sunday morning, in case you forgot. 9 am, since we let you sleep in that damn long.”It was my Britta-Lise, who else? Working with her were Krystal, Melissa, Hannah, Mariamne, Alicia, Darius, Eddie, Tyson, and Lester, all standing and watching me with grins on their faces. There were others behind them, but I couldn’t see them as well. We were all naked ... and we weren’t home.“Where ... are we?” I asked my wife.“My. We had a division of labor in our home. Notice now it is OUR home. It started out as MY home, went quickly to OUR home and any day now I fully expected it to be THEIR home and I am a guest in it. I think it is a woman nesting thing that causes them to do stuff like that. Curtains showed up with flowers on them. These flower shit things, potpourri I think they call it, showed up in the bathrooms, even mine. Frilly cushions started breeding all over my home. The windows got opened every day for "fresh air" and the house lost that wonderful fresh cooked steak smell that I loved to inhale when I came home and opened the front door. There wasn't a damn water stain on a single piece of furniture and look as hard as I could not one damn empty beer can could be found anyplace outside the recycling tub. I would turn on the TV and have to listen to Nickelodeon, or Disney, or Thailand Today, or the cooking or better homes and gardens, or the weather channel. Now the TV had the censor on it and.
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