“Come have breakfast.”“I am thirsty, mom,” he said looking at boobs. “Silly boy, that thirst can be fulfilled. But have breakfast first. You...need energy for your batting. Today I prepared your favorite items.”“What mom?”“Kheema paratha, go and freshen yourself and come.” After ten minutes when he came he was in his pajama and cotton T-shirt. I was waiting for him at the dining table. In front of me are the plates.“Come, my dear boy, sit here, let me feed you today with my hands,” and I taped at. Tasting her with my tongue, my hands caressing her shoulders, her back and those breasts.She reaches up and unbuttons my jeans, one button at a time as I watch. Her fingers find their way in and I want to scream for her to please touch me. Instead, I pull off her slacks and then discard my jeans. Now both naked, in the flickering candle light I lay down on top of her and press my thigh between her legs as I whisper how much I’ve missed this – us.The sticky, slick wetness that greets my thigh. More

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