It was nice to be praised, I couldn’t get what I did to my mother’s twat out of my mind. I felt dirty for crossing that line. I ate out the pussy ...hat birthed me. I felt everything had changed between my mother and me as she sauntered back into the room, giving me a friendly smile.How could she ever be my mother again now? There were some things you couldn’t undo.Johana Jordan’s Week, TuesdayThings felt weird at home the night before. Fragile. My mother sensed I was weirded out or maybe she was. She reluctantly agreed to let me spend the night. I think she may have been looking forward to a night alone but relented when she considered the fact that I would be able to take care of myself its not like she would have to chase after me like she did my cousins. We ate supper then after the evening news she went and took a bath. When she came into the living room she sat in the armchair beside the sofa and curled up to read a book. As the evening wore on I started to get bored they did not. I closed my eyes, biting my lip and let out a soft sigh. That small action felt so erotic that it sent tingles through my body and made my toes curl. He began applying more pressure, rocking his hips back and forth, pushing against my tight entrance until he thrust deep inside me in one swift motion causing a gasp to escape. “Oh fuck,” he grunted, nestling his face into the crook of my neck. His cock made me feel so full. My earlier assumptions were correct; definitely bigger than what I’m. “Valentina,” said Denise, “I think you need to sit down now.” Glancing around, I noticed all eyes were on me. Muttering the word ‘sorry’, I fell back onto my seat. The violist looked at me with a smirk. It was hard to wonder what’s on his mind. When the audience dismissed themselves from the concert hall, the next ‘performance’ came autograph signing from the show’s star performer. What felt like an eternity, the violist finished signing leaving me and Denise as the final two. After Denise got.
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