So they repositioned themselves. Uncle Paul lay down with his head resting on the pillow. Mother sat with her knees planted on either sides of his bod.... She guided his equipment into her wet cunt once again and started moving. Oh, how her breasts were jumping up and down with her. She would pause occasionally to brush away a strand of her loose hair from her face. She was softly moaning as she moved, giving Uncle Paul the thrill of his life. Uncle Paul lay relaxed. His hands occasionally rose. He had chosen to offer few compromises. He had agreed to not demand anything of her that might get either of them (or, likely, both) fired, or that jeopardized what remained of her marriage. But he liked pushing limits, was inclined to consider almost any limit "soft", and so was pushing right now on the one regarding the job. A calculated risk always turned him on. A boss-employee relationship involved risk by definition.He had given her one other compromise, a trivial one: to not call her. More

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