The doorbell snaps me from my daze.
I open. You enter silently, shoes on, sink into the armchair. You open your newspaper.

I kneel between your thighs. Seconds later, my lips glide down your hardening length.

You read, but your breath hitches faintly. I push deeper, wetter, hungrier. At last you murmur: “To completion.”
Your hand presses my head firmly down. I’m soaked. I obey. Thick taste flood my mouth, you groan.

I swallow every drop, lick you spotless.

You rise, zip up, clear your throat. The door clicks shut.

Marrying your son was the best decision of my life.