.. nite-nite," and fell asleep. I followed her into dreamland almost immediately.We stayed home the next three days, cleaning, sorting and putting thi...gs away. I made a quick trip to the grocery store for a few things she liked to eat, and she helped me clean out the motor home.During our first full day together, she taught me what she knew about makeup. Her mother hadn't allowed her to have very much, so I learned about blusher, eye-liner and lipstick. I liked the lip gloss the best. The. ”“So all Orthodox kids have to have a saint’s name?”“At least a form of one, yes, though converts often use their middle names, which Russians don’t really have, or work with the priest to select a patron. I’ll decide on my kids’ names based on who I want their patron saint to be.”“Your middle name is Peter, right?”“On my birth certificate and Social Security card. Besides that, except for school and my driving license, it’s ‘Petrovich’.”“So your kids would be Mikhailovich? Or Michael?”“If. Taste your mother's cunt. Lick it; suck it; tongue fuck it. Just put your mouth on it and eat me out. Please."Mother and son looked into each other's eyes, the mutual stare aimed over a moist dark brown bush of pubic hair and two quivering tits. The eyes of the older woman were expressing neediness; the eyes of the younger boy wonder.The 15-year-old's nostrils flared and his hands moved inside his mother's thighs where he tried pushing them wider apart, after which he buried his mouth and chin. After we finish with our prep interview she tells me she could barely hear me because it was to noisy outside and that we should take it to the bedroom. -how the fuck was it to noisy when all the windows were shut?-. So whatever, I just follow her to the bedroom. She closes the door behind us and the curtains claiming it was going to distract me. We sit on opposite side of the bed staring straight at each other. I start rehursing my lines. She slowly layed flat on the bed and tells me they're.