<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;"><em><strong>Name:</strong> Reese Spalding <strong>Location:</strong> Exactly where he shouldn't be<strong>Tags:</strong> Ali Oops</em></span></span><br/><hr/><div class="floatright">(http://cs618829.vk.me/v618829147/16e88/_llsAdvkGs8.jpg)</div>Quick with my quips and on my feet. I could be a star in running commentary.<br/><br/>Presently though, only the very near future tempts interest. If all goes well, I will be gawking at a naked woman. If all goes really well, she would be cumming. Somehow, this engaging debate of pros and cons overlooks the fact that I am about to spy on my mother in the bathroom. It would seem a dampener had been placed around my sense of morality. Clearly, my cock has superpowers.<br/><br/>Each step up the stairs makes my heart beat faster, with excitement. My blood tingles in anticipation. I am at the landing, dead ahead is salvation and the door is ajar. Or did I twist it open myself but lost all memory of it making room to store the vision that lay ahead. Ali was luxuriating in the tub, and she was<em>soaking</em>wet.<br/><br/>I bit my lip to strangle any and all exclamations, and there were plenty that my potty mouth came up with. Fuck, how her flesh glistened from the soap and the spray. I couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to run a hand down her side. Ride those buxom curves until the lure of her cunt became too much.<br/><br/>If I hadn't had the pleasure of spying on Chanel for months, I suspect I would have slipped into a coma.<br/><br/>But there are downsides to even the greatest gifts. Inured to incest by countless hours of fucking my twin sister, I find it a good idea to push my luck - or more pertinently the bathroom door - and it comes back to bite me in the ass. Eventually.<br/><br/>I stand mere feet away from my naked mummy, basking in the sight of her lush, round, perky  breasts. For about three seconds. And that window snaps shut long before I could summon coherent thought. Ali had realised the intruder was not her wife.<br/><br/>"<strong>Uhh... Yeah... bath... sheet... Where... Right.. Here</strong>," On top of being a blubbering mess, I find myself blatantly trying to sneak another peek. I must be mental.