mom an son xxxx begins at 3:17 a.m. in a hotel suite. City glow through half-open blinds stripes her restless body. She can’t sleep, so mom an son xxxx becomes her lullaby. Slow, almost lazy circles over silk panties gradually soak the fabric dark. In mom an son xxxx, she pushes them aside instead of removing them—impatient, perfect. Two fingers, then three, stretching, curling, until the headboard thumps rhythmically against the wall. When she finally comes in mom an son xxxx, it’s with a muffled scream into the pillow, whole body shaking so hard the mattress springs sing. Dawn finds her asleep in tangled sheets, panties still twisted to the side—proof that mom an son xxxx worked better than any sleeping pill.