Mom advanced in her dark dress, her dusky face flushed, her hijab half askew. I’d never be pure. Umayyah
I came home early, Leyla’s old, faded-blue Toyota Camry in the driveway. What would it like to be with Faizel…? Mom and Dad would kill me if they learned I masturbated. I’d felt their eyes on my figure. I whimpered. Moaning like a whore. “He’s my brother.”
“Is that why you let him watch? Not the role model of a virtuous Muslim woman. It was a roller coaster of emotions, playing the hand, trying to figure out the odds of winning. Mom kept grinding on my ass, whimpering a she sucked on my neck. My clit drank in my rubbing fingers. I stirred them to a froth watching Clint’s muscular chest ripple. My breasts bounced as Mom yanked me down the hallway. “Oh, wow, Mom, she’s… Temptation burned too hot. “I saw it all,” Mom said. I had to see what sort of slut my daughter was. No wonder you drove your poor little brother to distraction.”
I pulled my fingers out of my mouth.
