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Mother and son listened to the muffled
voices from the room next door. The babel
of vice in a love hotel. The ribald
grunt of bed-springs breaking. The carnal
sob that comes from a job well done. He played
with her hard nipple, toyed with her swollen
lips. She held his head until he obeyed,
her long curved fingers making a fountain
for him to drown in. Her mouth at his ear,
sliding down his naked skin, cupping him,
her mouth taking in his engorged boy-cock
down to its root. What is sex without fear?
Later, they sighed, sticky with their jism
and bliss. This is what we call “pillow talk.”
