She was so close; my breasts were d****d over her, with the weight of them on her shoulders. I had not removed my hand from my crotch and continued to...rub myself.I could see the reflection of the girls eyes go wide seeing her mother being fucked by my dad on his desk. She stood immobile and did not stop watching. I felt her breath become faster as we looked together into the room. Using my free hand, I reached around, cupped her breast, and felt the hardened nipple as her body melted back into. She had a habit of letting the world know exactly what she was feeling, a practice that turned me on no end and made me ram her harder and faster the more she talked. But I digress.No, what I'm thinking about here is the idea that hearing laughter coming from the parents' bedroom probably doesn't do the kid any harm. In fact, it's probably something really positive. That it might be accompanied or preceded or followed by grunts and groans and cries and squeaking bedsprings is a bonus, not to be. More

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