In one hour I’ll have my son back inside me
One hour.
That’s all I have left before I see my son, and I’m already imagining how the afternoon is going to unfold.
I can’t wait for his van pulling up and me climbing in with my bag and phone, already teasing him about the massage I’ve been waiting for.
I’ve been planning the whole thing in my head.
Once we find somewhere quiet to park, I’ll have him make the bed in the back comfortable with pillows and blankets.
I’ll prop my phone somewhere stable where the livestream can see us clearly.
Thinking about kicking off my shoes, stretching out comfortably on my stomach, unclothed, and finally letting myself relax.
I can practically feel the orgasm pulsing through my body just thinking about it.
I’ll probably start the livestream before I lie down so I can talk to everyone first.
Then I’ll settle into the pillows and tell my son exactly where I’m carrying the most tension—my shoulders, neck and upper back and my breasts. let him get to work.
I can already imagine myself laughing at the comments while he “complains” that I’m making him perform for an audience.
Mostly, though, I’m anticipating that comfortable feeling of being able to switch everything else off for a while and enjoy a filthy incestual afternoon together.
I keep looking at the time.
Fifty-nine minutes.
The countdown has officially started.
See you there ;)