He liked to play with the boxes of his mother's stockings, pretending he was a clerk in a department store like the one where she purchased her nylons...from. He loved the way the stockings were so carefully packaged inside the box which helped him to understand how fragile and delicate the stockings were. He was mesmerized by the diaphanous tissue paper that was so perfectly and carefully wrapped around each pair and how the tissue paper was carefully secured by a paper band that acted almost. Then he walked in front of my face and told me to put up my palms. I obeyed all his commands like a slave girl.He poured a generous amount of almond oil on my palms and directed me to massage his throbbing turgidity. “Smear your motherfucking son’s cock with that oil, Sonali. I love the touch of your soft palms and fingers on my cock so much, ma.”I started smearing his eagerness with my oily palms and fingers. He threw back his head in fresh pleasure, moaning out my name, and uttering. More

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