“I heard you.”I flushed more, remembering the hot, degrading words I said while caught up in the fantasy.“You're a slut. And that's okay.”I bl...nked at that. “What?” My mom couldn't have said that. Not the role model of a virtuous Muslim woman. “Mom?”“You're a slave to your pussy. It happens. I hoped you would be pure like me.” Mom stroked my black hair, giving me a motherly smile. Shame filled me for not being pure.“But you're slut. And I know just what to do about that.”“I'm not a slut, Mom,”. Pulling him closer, our tongues began to touch as I felt his hands running down to my waistband. Moaning softly as I felt his touch, he lowered my shorts down to the floor. My own hands tugged at his shorts and we were soon naked pressed against each other. Our hard cocks against each other, our hands running over our bodies. Stepping away, he pulled out the desk chair and sat down, legs spread and penis erect. It was a good seven-inches against my six, uncircumcised and healthy. Placing a. More

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