>>13107382He lay there, wretched in loneliness and inadequacy for what may have been an hour, feeling the paltry puddle of semen recede back into his loins. His despondence was abruptly broken by the creak of the front door.
Mother was home.
The irregular taps of Mother’s steps were accompanied by several deep male voices. A man’s laugh cut through the night.
She had gone to the refugee camp again.
The BGC poster withdrew into the foetal position, the candy wrappers rustling under his unwashed, Neanderthal-like body as the slow rumble of footsteps made their way up the stairs.
The BGC poster’s mother, tortured by a lifetime of unsatisfactory Greek sex felt the exhilaration hammer in her chest and electricity quiver through her veins. As the Syrian men around her undressed, she crawled onto the bed on all fours, drunkenly tugging off her skirt halfway before one of the men approached her from behind. The BGC poster’s mother’s lips were gleaming wet in anticipation, so that the man, despite his significant girth, slid into her effortlessly.
A deep primal groan erupted out her mouth as he entered her, her nether lips clasped tightly around his thick organ. Within moments she felt herself tenting inside, and the Arab, sensing this, entered her fully and touched her where no Greek had touched her before. Only a few thrusts later and she was gritting her teeth before breaking into sobs, her body convulsing in ecstasy.
