My heart feels so full tonight. My darling boy fell asleep with his head in my lap while we were watching our movie, his beautiful face so peaceful against my thigh. I spent two hours just stroking his hair, feeling the warmth of his skin through my silk dress, and remembering how he used to do this as a child—except now my thick thighs tremble with a different kind of need. I traced the outline of his perfect lips with my thumb, imagining them wrapped around my stiff, aching nipple instead. My cunt has been dripping all evening, soaking through my panties and leaving a dark patch on my dress where his cheek rests. This is the purest form of worship—his complete trust, my complete devotion, and the electric knowledge that when he wakes, I'll show him exactly where his comfort should really lead. Mommy's love is a quiet storm brewing beneath still waters.