Kalum’s smallclothes. He’d sent them sailing over the screen. Using the back of my hand I flipped the offending garment onto the floor beside the ...ub, grudgingly admiring his aim.“Eugh,” I said. “Fucking barbarian.” “Priss,” Kalum said. I could hear the smile lingering in his voice. “How long has it been since you sank your staff into a hole?” I glanced at Kalum through the screen again. He was reclining at the table once more, but now he had only his left arm raised, forearm resting on the. While I held my breath, Amma slowly opened the file and turned to the first page. OH! Boy! Did I hear her gasp? The title of the story was "I and my son" and I saw her fingers trembling slightly. Giving a sideways glance towards me she turned another page where story started. By then I was bold and sat beside my mother and put my face on her shoulder as if I too started reading.The story was about a son who was attracted to his own mother and was one day peeking through the bathroom door while. That was the last time the man went slow, as he suddenly thrust forward, burying himself entirely, and then extracting himself just as quickly. He rammed into the smaller man, fucking him mercilessly and ruining his virgin ass.“Take it. Take it. Take it, bitch.” the rapist grunted, plowing into the business man as he cried silently. The pain was unbearable, and he was being violated in the worst way. The man reached around and fondled his flaccid cock roughly.“Your cunt's all soft, bitch.” the. “Have you ever been?” he says, pulling me from my reverie.“No,” I say, hoping he’s still referring to the museum in New York he brought up six minutes ago.“There’s nothing quite like it. The mixture of cultures and artifacts is incomparable.”“I’m sure,” I smile, trying to make myself present once again.Robert continues his monologue about the numerous galleries he’s been to -- in and out of the country. I give an honest effort to immerse myself in what little I know about fine art as we eat our.
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