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Bobby put down his professor's lecture notes, distracted by the squeaking of his mother's bed. Even six months after the wedding he couldn't get used to another man taking his father's place in there. It didn't help that Sarah and this Ricardo were such sexual soulmates; the way that man slid his olive-tinged hands over her at breakfast was obscene.
Not that Bobby could claim the moral high ground; not long before his father left for good, Bobby had drilled a hole in his closet wall that backed up to the master bedroom. This had taken care of his sex education needs, but it also made him as jealously familiar with his mother's lush body as anyone short of a lover could be. Now whenever he watched his mother feed Ricardo one of her dusky-tipped nipples and lower her parted thighs onto his cock, Bobby would stroke and soak his stash of towels, lust mixing with envy of the handsome older man.