Torn lives
The yell was almost deafening to the fifteen, almost sixteen years old boy, and his hand, about to grab and pet the turgid breast cringed as if bitten by a scorpion, his face was a masque of confusion, as he sent a look of heartbroken bewilderment to his mother, not understanding the reason for such a fierce cry. He was just trying to do what he thought, both of them, his thirty five years old mother and he wanted, what she had been causing with her permanent and mercilessly erotic and sexualy...