#54816 - “I think…” she said, exploring my body with curious eyes, “…I want you to stop making love to me. I didn’t know how I’d gotten her pressed against the mirror, my trembling fingers tearing her white turtle neck from her body, her fumbling hands struggling with my belt as our lips smeared spit and lipstick across our devouring mouths. Mom laughed sweetly into my ear, and then kissed a trail down my chest, stopping when her lips hovered above my nipple.
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