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- I'm not a bitch.
My mother was in her room, taking a self-portrait of herself, shining as if she had been painted, with her round buttocks twisted up and her pussy holes wet between her pants. When she saw me, she whispered, “Come on, son,” and I immediately rubbed her soft breasts, teasing her to moan while I pressed her against the bed.
My mother was in her room, taking a self-portrait of herself, shining as if she had been painted, with her round buttocks twisted up and her pussy holes wet between her pants. When she saw me, she whispered, “Come on, son,” and I immediately rubbed her soft breasts, teasing her to moan while I pressed her against the bed.