Is There A Tag?

Mama Felicity 1844-332-2639 Ext 270

You were lying on the couch, minding your own business, when I waltzed in. “Baby, can you help Mama with something?” I’m pretty sure I saw your eyes roll, which seems to be your constant state with me lately. We used to be so close, and now you’re constantly annoyed with me. I needed to find a way to bring us close again, and I think I found a way. I turned my back toward you and leaned over the arm of the couch a bit, flipping up my dress to expose my round ass in the tiny pink thong.

“Mom! What the hell?” You ask, bolting up right, but I noticed you can’t look away.

“Is there a tag in my panties? Something is poking me and it’s so annoying but I can’t find it. Can you look for me?”

Is There A Tag?

 

“Um, I don’t know.” You swallow tightly, and I part my knees a little more. Deepening my bend so my ass is in the air.

“Well, can you feel for one? I’m serious. It’s really bothering me.” I snatch your wrist and bring your hand to my ass. You look like you’re in a daze as your hand slides down the curve of my cheek, then moves over to cup my crotch. I have to bite in to my lip to keep from moaning as your fingers move around the edges of the tiny thong.

“Mom? Are you getting wet?” I look over my shoulder at you and notice the tent in your pants. I nod a little, feeling embarrassed, but if this is the only way to get your attention, then I’ll do what I have to do.

 

Mama Felicity 1844-332-2639 Ext 270

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