No this is not a love story. I promise. It all started... can't quite recall when. Long time like a decade? or more. Perhaps.
I was just a kid back then. High spirited, naive and gifted when it comes to school and exam. I loved to paint. Winning at the draw stuff contest was piece of cake for me. I'd draw countryside or cartoon chars, bushes or biscuits, frogs or micky mouse. But never her. I swear.
I saw her. Taking her son to somewhere outside. They had many things in common if I think of it now. Buttery white skin, marble curved body, meaty ass, beautiful legs in knee socks. Beige and black. Yeah I would definitely fall for Tom, but god didn't make him girl. But no, I didn't fall for his mom.
My mom and she often chitchat on the afternoons. Like usual neighbours. I don't show up in the middle not because I am shy or something. I am busy you know. One day I was breaking the stairs. She is few steps ahead of me, slowww. I stared upwards. Vacantly. Of course not, I was not hypnotised from her twerking mooner. Needed to go home asap. Another day saw this mom of four in the theatre street with other women. Laughing, loitering, leaning against one another they're walking. I was not captivated by her floating hair, red lips or high heels. No I was not.
None's home now. Evening's drawing with mystic rush. She knocks on the door. Seeing thru the looking lens. She's in that frok, black tights abd peep toes. Sweet little smile on the face. She knocks on the door. She will get in. Undress herself in socks only. I will look in disgust what nasty whore she is! She will invade my adolescence. My innocence. My nativity. Slowly putting the cottoned feet over my testicles. Quickly wetting them with thick white unknown...what's next?
She knocks on the door. I do know what to do. Because this IS a love story.(Edited 3 minutes later.)
@OP
@1,062,991 (A)
Tvoja majka žali što ne radi pobačaj