She inched closer, her body now squarely between his legs. Tiffany observed her son as he sat comfortably, naked, holding his towering c**k in one hand. It loomed before her, thick and stout. Below the fat base of his p***s, Ben's heavy balls rested on the couch cushion. Tiffany moved her gaze to meet his eyes, then at his d**k, then back to his eyes again. Switching back-and-forth as if caught in some inner quandary. Tiffany's mouth was watering. She wanted his p***s in her mouth. Part of her was hoping that was the idea he had in mind.
Ben continued to explain the scene, wielding his monumental erection. He was strained to full hardness.
"Okay, Mom, my plan is to have the camera real close, on the end table," he nodded toward it, "and angled straight at your breasts. You'll be kneeling
