For some reason I hit the play button on my CD player and the opening strains from the overture of Vivaldi’s opera Bajazet began to fill the room . ...he stately music contrasted piquantly with the scene before me – her tongue sliding up and down every inch of my cock. I took her sun glasses off and marveled at her eyes of arctic blue, framed by black penciled lines – giving them a distinctly Egyptian air. Even in their present attitude, they were transcendentally beautiful eyes. She shut them. But that body was unreal. It was like I wasn't even lusting after her at all, in a way. A little pathetic, sure, in the same way beating off to erotic cartoons was pathetic. But the woman in the kitchen was so far removed from reality that it hardly felt like there was anything particularly immoral or incestuous about the thoughts I was having. Except, of course, I knew better. That was just what I wanted to believe. Whatever she looked like, this was indeed my mother that I was drooling over.. More

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