
The thick warmth with the sweetness of her gut-spit still coated my tongue as I sat back on the edge of the bed, my mind reeling. It should have been revolting, but since it came from the deep, secret interior of my own mother, it felt like a sacred, forbidden nectar.
I wasn’t just her son anymore; I was becoming her vessel. Amma watched me with her heavy, naked breasts swaying slightly as she leaned forward, her eyes searching mine with a mocking, heavy-lidded curiosity.





















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