CLICK, CLICK, ZIIIIIP. LIII.- FAREWELL TO THE LITTLE VIRGIN 🧜

When he saw Angel leave, he waited 10 minutes and went up to the house, with his head down.

Laura was showered, dressed, preparing dinner. She smiled at him as he entered.

L: How was it at the workshop, dear?

P looked at her. He opened his mouth. He closed it. He went to the bedroom. The sheets had been changed. It smelled clean. There was no single evidence of what he had seen less than an hour ago.

Except that P had seen it and couldn't deny it. Even so, he didn't have the balls to say anything.

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Angel called me and told me that night on the phone.

A: It has worked exactly as I planned. P has seen everything and has left without saying a single word. Ha ha ha

Hehehehehehehehehehe, what a fucking cuckold he is!!!

T: And now what?

A: Now he gets to see how I fuck his mother and how she begs me to rip her ass.

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That moment would arrive soon. It took barely a week of preparation.

Angel knew that P went to Cristina's house on Fridays in the afternoon to bring her shopping. It was the only routine he kept with his mother, half out of obligation, half out of habit.

He arrived around six, left the bags in the kitchen, had a quick coffee, and left.

On the chosen Friday, Angel arrived at five.

Cristina opened the door with a silk bathrobe that she had bought recently, a frivolity unbecoming of a woman of her age, which revealed how much Angel had transformed her.

C: We have an hour, fuck me until you rip me apart.

A: Today I need more time.

C: But my son comes at six.

A: Well, I already know that.

Cristina looked at him. She understood.

Or rather, she didn't understand fully, but she didn't care, because Angel was already kissing her and her body was responding before her brain did.

He took her to the living room. Not the bedroom. The living room, where there was a large wooden table, the table where Carmen put the lace tablecloth on Sundays and served the family meal.

Angel sat her on the edge of the table, opened her bathrobe, undressed her slowly. Cristina let him do it, panting.

He started fucking her as he usually does, very slowly and carefully, and while he was introducing fingers into her ass.

At six minus five, P put the key in the lock of his mother's apartment.

He opened the door with the shopping bags in his hands.

From the entrance hall, the living room was visible through an arch without a door.

What he saw was his seventy-one-year-old mother lying on the living room table, with her legs open, holding onto the edge with both hands, while Angel had taken out his cock and was pointing it at her ass.

Despite the barbarity of having to swallow that for the first time, it was Cristina who was begging him.

C: Give me the strongest...