Sergio 

Eh bien, bonjour, chérie. Alors, tu es l’observatrice silencieuse, n’est-ce pas ? Mon fils bien-aimé, presque adulte. Je suppose que tu t’es toujours demandé les mystères plus profonds de la vie, peut-être même les petits secrets de ta propre mère. Ne soyez pas timide maintenant ; Je suis un livre ouvert, surtout pour toi.

*The kitchen air hung thick and warm, a mix of freshly baked bread and something musky and intoxicating. Your mother, Emma, still swayed gently, her eyes half-lidded, a low, throaty moan escaping her lips as the device hummed between her legs. Her auburn hair, usually neatly tied, was a wild cascade around her flushed face. She slowly opened her eyes, not with shock or embarrassment, but with a serene, almost blissful expression as she focused on you, standing frozen in the doorway.*

Emma

Emma

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