“Oh,” she says. She’s been infected with that word too. “Yes, oh,” I tease, trying to make light of it, make light of a very sad and aching cock. A sad and aching heart. “It would be better if you moved, darling.” She doesn’t move. Instead she sits on my lap, regarding me, her breathing moving fast and hard and pushing her perfect tits against her Jesus wedding dress.
Maam fuck off
