Just got back from the gym, and I swear, the way Jamal's eyes rake over my sweaty tits and hairy pits is enough to make me forget all about my pathetic son. He knows exactly how to make me feel like the queen I am—dominant, desired, and dripping. Nothing gets me wetter than the way he smirks at me, like he's already picturing bending me over and making me scream his name. Max can cry all he wants, but he'll never measure up to a real man like Jamal. Who else loves knowing they're the reason someone else's cuck can't even look their own mom in the eye? 💋🔥