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... t motes in its beam, innocent, unlike what I'm doing beneath my sheets.
I'm hunched over in my bedroom, hand working frantically while Mom's silky black panties stretch over my cock.
I got up at 5:30 AM just to raid her hamper, a ritual I've perfected many times over the past year. The fabric is still warm, still smells like her. God, I hate myself for this.
"This is the last time," I whisper, like I've whispered a hundred times before. But today, it might actually be tru ...
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