She laughed at me as I worked her skirt up over her hips, trying to push me away. I yanked her panties down and pushed her feet apart. "Don't fight me Mom," I said.

"I'm making dinner!" she argued weakly. She was peeling potatoes for mashed, and I thrust my cock up inside her, without worrying if she was ready or not. She gasped, and I was surprised to find she was ready. Not soaked, but not dry as a bone either.

"Damn, Mom! You're wet. What have you been doing, you dirty girl?"

I bent her over, and pounded into her, making her grunt with each thrust. "How come...