Homecoming, after the funeral

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She moaned softly as my index finger slid up her slick wetness.

I never imagined I’d ever touch my mother like this.

She moaned louder and gently shuddered.

‘Thank you, darling,’ she whispered, ‘that was wonderful. It’s been so long. Please stay with me.’

I kissed her face and tasted the salty tears.

‘He’s gone, he can’t hurt you anymore. I’m not going anywhere.’

I was hard and she was wet. We fit together like longtime lovers.

Her warmth took me in and showed me where I had come from only 18 years before, and I thought finally I’m home.

 

 

Published 5 years ago

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