“Uhhh, that always feels so great!” I gasped, as I came. “No wonder I have a boner every morning.”
It came out as fast as ever, in opaque whitish jets, only the merest splatter getting on the rim of her travel mug. My mom squeezed the last couple of drops of my semen into her Columbian blend, quickly licked the sticky excess off the edge of her mug, and then securely put the top on.
“You're a very good son,” she told me, as she always did.
It was our little joke.
Because I was a very good son. And every morning, I was even the cream in her coffee.
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