I was amused to see few drops of sweat on his forehead and the colour of his face getting yellow. “I am okay Mom” I replied. “How is your dad ba...y” she asked. “Mom dad is fucking me hard”. I giggled and replied. “Whaat, what did you say?’ dad is fucking you hard” Mom asked with a pleasant surprise. “Yes Mom! but he is scared of your voice and has pulled his hard cock out of my wet pussy. His cock has turned limp and soft” I added while giggling. “Oh baby, so finally you have succeeded in making. In my dream, Sicily was always covered in gold. Everything was gold: the golden Baroque cities glistening under the glowing sun of August, and far away, the gently rising mountains of Theocritus directing our gaze to Homer's wine-dark sea. Now when I look back at myself at the age of fifteen, I recall only two pieces of literature that lent my monotonous school life a subtle romantic air: A la recherche du temps perdu by Marcel Proust and the Eclogues by Virgil. For a short time I was so. More

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