I remember the way James's hands felt on my body, and tilt my head back as I recall his fingers tangling in my hair. I sigh and jerk myself out of my...thoughts. It's best not to dwell on it, I tell myself. It's not like I'll ever see him again. I finish up in the shower and wrap a soft white towel around me. I hear my phone's annoying ring-tone and rush back into my bedroom and answer it, "Hello?" "Naomi Johnson?" the voice is male. "Speaking, may I help you?" "It's James, from. From my flushed face and chest and the aroma of sex that must have clung to me, this would not be hard to find.“Did you let him...” he began.“Fuck me?” I finished his question. “Yes Pete. He fucked me.”“Was it good?”“It was one of the best I’ve ever had, Pete. It was a good farewell fuck.”He winced then asked:“It really was farewell?”I nodded.“So your plan worked?” he asked. "Whatver it was?"I took a deep breath.“Yes Pete. It worked better than I expected.”He looked into my eyes. From his. Moura took the almost ashen young boy into her bedroom. She walked over to the bed and, sprawled out languidly on her back, her thighs parted slightly, her shoes remaining on her feet. She raised up her arms and beckoned her son. The sight of her glorious body awaiting him on the bed thrilled him. Was this the end that he’d wanted all along? To make love to his own mother? To fuck her maternal cunt with his own burgeoning tool? Her powerful breasts rose and fell with each heavy breath she took.. I watched as her leg did a crescent over his chest. She was helping herself to the fun, straddling him, inching her way up until he had full access to her sweet spot. My heart raced, anxious to see his reaction. This was it. Either he freaks or he buys into the scenario. With him inside my mouth almost full mast, I knew his body was all in, now it was just a matter of his mind. I grabbed his shaft, stroked it while trying my best to evoke yet another moan from him. I had to do my part. His back.
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